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Red,
I just got a chance to read your story. You did a
wonderful job of evoking empathatic feelings in me. Very well done, please
keep writing and keep posting.
thank you
mike
----- Original Message -----
Sent: Friday, May 24, 2002 1:41 AM
Subject: ::BuffyLovesWillow:: FIC:B/W
"STILL STRUGGLIN"
Hey there, this is my first post of fiction to this
particular list. I Hope you find it
interesting. This short
story will be separated into 3 parts, though it may lapse into a 4th
or
so.. i guess it just depends on how overloaded my brain is..... please
feel free to criticize...
... BTW.. I'm enjoying all the stories
immensely!... thanks!
Title: Still Struggling
Author:
Willow_Red
Email: St8sboroblues@xxxxxxxxx or
nick_elodian@xxxxxxxxx
Disclaimer: All characters and references to belong
to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all them
other folks <G> I'm
just using them to make my own little fun. However the story belongs to
me
only. You may post or distribute only with permission from and
credit to me.
So just ask <G> And if you don't likethe
idea of Willow and Buffy together then... why are you
reading
this?
Rating: PG-R (as it might progress from one to the other)
Pairing:
Willow/Buffy
Summary: Buffy struggles over her feelings for
Willow. This is part one in a 3 part (though
possibly more)
series. Thoughts will be expressed in < and > brackets... This
covers some info
from Season 2-4 (right before "Something Blue" to be
exact, although the rest will go beyond
that...)
Hope you enjoy.
Feedback? I thrive on of feedback.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I'm fully aware of my heart beating now.
The quick thudding in my chest, my hands, my neck, just under
my...
<No> I think and turn around again, looking out the
window at the dark shadows crossing the lawn.
Looking out there, anywhere
but in here, eyes darting, searching for a target that holds my
attention,
holds it longer than her... But my eyes drift to the faint reflection
now staring at
me. I study her soft features evident even now inthe
cold hard glass of my prison. I hurt for
her. My hands
clenching beside me I can't help but hurt for a touch that will never come,
lips
that I will never taste.. an ache that we'll never share. I
close my eyes. <This is not supposed
to be happening... >
Oh but it is. <You've got it bad girl.>
I bring my hands to my face, covering my eyes then
slowly wiping away the beads of sweat that
have formed on my brow.
<Go to her> I hear that familiar voice tell me. <She wants you to>
it
taunts. <NO> I shake my head breaking up my own
thoughts that torture me endlessly. I turn
around again looking at
her laying there in that bed, snug in her own little world of dreams I
want
so desperately to be apart of. I take her in, inch by sexy inch.
Even my own eyes betray me
. I'm finally able to look away as I sit
on my own unslept in bed across from her.
<If only I could've just gone with her being a ghost for Halloween.
But no... not me. Big
bad Buffy had to try and talk her into wearing
that little.. getup.. that little... those legs
and that stomach...
those boots... ...stop it! > I trace my gaze over her bare skin just
visible
enough in the predawn light. A bare arm that disappears at
the elbow underneath her pillow where
her hair spills in red locks of
absolute perfect softness. I follow that arm up to the shoulder,
where her short sleeve pajama shirt has been pushed up. Then down my
eyes go over the soft fabric
to her waist, where again, her shirt is askew
and I sigh ever so lightly at the small patch of
skin visible now directly
above her waistline. Her left leg and arm are thrown around
her
comforter in sleep, innocently unaware of my eyes on her.
<What i wouldn't give to mimic her
position. I would wrap my leg
and arm lovingly around her body, and bury my face in her hair.>
That
hair. Oh that beautiful head of red hair. I've smelled that
hair. I've touched it,
threading my fingers through it in wonderment
at its softness, wanting to feel it slide across my
face and body.
Remaining silent however. Staying among the safe shadows of friendship.
<I was
just braiding her hair.>
I run a
hand though my own hair thanking all the gods I know must exist that she's not
facing
me. The urge to kiss those sweet lips would be too much to
bare. <I should have kissed her.>
Yes, that not so distant
Halloween with those boots and skirt and that midriff, revealing her
tight
stomach. <Don't keep doing this to yourself> I never noticed
her before then. Mousey
little Willow. My pal, sure, but come
on. And then, standing in front of me, practically shaking
with
nervousness. I called her a dish, and I meant it. I was
wowed. And briefly, right before I
heard the doorbell ring, I felt
something that was familiar enough spread from my abdomen to my
thighsand
up, up to.. and then... there are just no words to describe how much different
that
warmth was that time. <thank god for Xander>
<Look what you've done to me. I can't
stop thinking about you. Do you know how hard it is
wanting to jump
your best friend for two years? No. Of course you don't
Will.> No, she doesn't
know what it's been like struggling with
these feelings. With everything that's happened with
Angel and, and
<Parker! What was I thinking??> She comforts me and I need
it, but still... I
respond more to her touch than my own
feelings...
It hurt to the bone when Angel left,
especially after all we went through. It hurt something
awful.
I felt like I couldn't breathe. In all honesty though, It was her I
mostly thought of.
No matter how much I hurt over Angel, I sought comfort
in Will's arms and that's where I felt
safest. Yeah, I couldn't
breath. I was hurting and helpless from losing Angel and I
couldn't
breath because I was so close to her. There I was crying my
eyes out, really hurting, but I was
with her, I mean we were really holding
on to each other and all my senses became alive for a
brief couple of
moments before I slightly pulled back, reminding myself of why she was
comforting
me. I felt bad. Ashamed even. But briefly, I
felt her. All of her. I could smell her, and not
just her soap
or that great herbal shampoo she uses. No. I could smell her, that
perfectly Willow
smell. I heard her too. My ears were alive
with the sounds of her heartbeat, her breathing, and
her sighs of
compassion. I think I loved her then. I mean, the full realization
of who she was
and what she meant to me. It was all so powerful,so
intense.
So I buried it. Refusedto
acknowledge that kind of love could exist for me. Refused and
let
those lustful thoughts of plain geeky Willow get to me. Geeky
Willow. I shake my head,
that's just the frustration talking, trying
to talk me out of my lust and love for my best friend.
<Good try.
It ain't gonna happen. I've been trying it myself> Yeah, I
buried those feelings,
but they keep crawling out of the grave, because
they never die... <they never will>. Two years
now I've
been burying those feelings repeatedly. I keep on stuffing them waydown
deep inside me.
I refuse to acknowledge how scared and angry I am when
Willow is hurt as anything other than how
I'm supposed to be as her
friend. But the truth is, my passion runs much deeper. I playit
so
cool though. Played it just like Oz. Oz. I could kill
him for hurting Willow like that. You
have no idea how happy I was to
throw him across the room and pump a tranquilizer dart in him when
he tried
to go after Will after munching on Veruca. That short enjoyment passed
though when I saw
that sweet face tear streaked and Will in agony. So
I went to her like I always do. Always will.
But the pain that I
could see in her face from what Oz, her beloved boyfriend and my friend,
did
to her pained me too. I could not... can not face how much Ilove
her and how much it hurt that
she felt... still feels... so greatly for him
and not me. There was no vampire to dust or an evil
demon of the
night to behead that would solve this and take away the pain.. for eitherof
us.
This was Oz. Sure he's a wolf three nights a month, but it's
Oz. He's so different. So very
aware of his own fear at what kind of
harm he could cause people, cause Willow... <But he did hurt
her didn't
he? Yes yes... and so have I... haven't I?> So I withdrew
from her like I always do
just when she needs me the most.
The truth is I'm scared. I'm weak ok.
I've been struggling here for two years. And the
truth is, I don't
know how much longer I can keep it up. She's in so much pain. I
want to reach
out to her, to connect with her heart, and wrap my slayer
arms around her and hold her until all
the pain and anger goes away.
I don't trust myself around her though. When she needs me I run.
When she wants to help me I don't want her to because I fear for
her. She doesn't think I value
our friendship <yeah, that
fight at Halloween this year was a real blast wasn't it?> but I do.
Of
course I do. I just don't trust myself to comfort her these
days. I know I'll kiss her. I can
feel it in my gut. I'll
hold her and let her cry and feel miserable, and I'll run my hands
through
that gorgeous red hair of hers and lean in for a kiss and <you'll
lose her and you know
it> ... so you see why I
run?
I get up again and walk across to her, my
legs inches from her warm sleeping body. <you're
so beautiful
girl... i wish i could tell you... everything...> I begin to reach
down, like I've
done so many early mornings after slaying, and stop myself
just short of the heat rising off her
bare waist. I purse my lips,
close my eyes, and turn away. She has no idea how long I've buried
my
true feelings for her. How many nights I've come in from dusting vamps
and watched her sleep
with this primal instinct to touch her, kiss her,
confess everything to her in a wake of passion.
<Like that'll ever
happen.... you're a fool Buffy. She can never love you like that. She
likes
boys remember? And you're supposed to
too>
This has become a nightly ritual since she
moved in. And each night I turn to the window
wishing to be freefrom
these restraints. I can not find release in her arms. Yet I can
not
leave here. Can not leave her. I'll always be her friend,
her best friend. If that means
spending these lonely nights just
before dawn looking at my Willow with trembling hands and a
racing heart,
trying to put out the fire that burns there (and..... ) for her, then I
will.
I wipe a tear away from my cheek with a
slightly trembling hand and crawl into my own bed
aware of the emptiness
that has always been there and always will as long as she's
not.
=====
"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals
profound
anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that
as sighs
and cries pass over them they sound like
beautiful
music"
-Soren
Kierkegaard
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