Fic: The Flow (6/?)

[stefzis@xxxxxxxxx]

Hello all,
I was going to do another bulk post in a day or two, but after 
showing this chapter to some friends I decided to post it now. You 
won't be disspointed, but also remember I'm not really sure what goes 
here and what doesn't, but if Ms. Clarks work is any incation this 
won't turn that many head :)
Catch you on the flipside,
Stef

Title: The Flow
Prologue: Coffee Shop (reposted)
Chapter 5: Past Not Remembering
Rating: R/NC-17
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns it all right?
Summary: Set after the serie's end, kind of hard to put into words 
really. Buffy tries and fails to reach out to Willow in the night.

Chapter 5: Past Not Remembering

It's raining and the wind is picking up and it looks like we are not 
going anywhere until tomorrow night. Which means we are stuck here 
with each other for company, driven into our individual corners of 
the mansion we sit and beat ourselves up over what we just said. Or 
that's what I like to think. I'm trying work up the courage to go see 
Buffy or Xander, it won't be pretty but it needs to be done we have 
to work things out sooner or later. 
Maybe she won't come to me this time around? 

Forgiveness doesn't come easy for me these days. The rain is beating 
against the glass just like it did the night everything went wrong.

I curl up into ball on the deep chair I'm sitting in and I promise 
myself I won't cry, I won't cry. Then she's there, she's always there 
just looking at me with a look of pure disgust in her blue eyes. We 
have become so different; she still clings to the pure dream? like it 
all was when we started out. Me on the other hand? lets just say that 
being tortured and blinded tends to give you a new perspective on 
things. I haven't had that same pureness of heart she has for the 
longest time now. Those to blame are all dead now, there was nothing 
left of them except for the splotches of blood on the walls. She 
wasn't there and I had to get out on my own. I remember crawling 
through the streets of Peking, blind and half-mad and for the first 
time totally alone. I hate them so much it hurts.

Buffy, I can see her standing in the doorway, looking at me, a husk 
of a girl she used to know and perhaps love. This is not a construct 
of my mind, but her in the flesh. I make a gesture and the door slams 
in her face. She of course sees it coming, miss perfection herself, 
and the door is stopped mid swing. I want to hurt her, but I know 
that no matter how hard I try I would be dead before I got within ten 
feet of her.

She just closes the door behind her and her jacket falls silently to 
the floor, this isn't the first time we have played this game. She's 
halfway undressed by the time she reaches me. She takes my head and 
lets me rest between her breasts. I fight her, but I'm not a match 
for her. This is the only time I allow myself to cry and I hate it. 
She's so soft, not like me, just a hardened bundle of muscles and 
bones. She undresses me with soft hands and then carries me to my 
bed. We have danced this dance many times over the years and I know 
that in the morning, perhaps sooner, it will all fade and flow away. 
But I've been lonely now for the longest time. Still I find little 
pleasure in this act.

We role on the bed, there is a spark there, for just a moment, but 
then she starts. She smoothes the palms of her hands over the scars 
that decorate my back, the movement is almost frantic, like she's 
trying to erase them, erase her mistakes and her losses. I gasp a 
moment of weakness on my part I admit. I will not allow myself to 
lose myself in her. Then as I'm laying perfectly still under her, 
afraid of breathing or moving, I start to feel her fingers probing 
into me and I shut my eyes tight as they pleasure with their touch 
while at the same time bringing forth memories of utter humiliation 
and glowing red pokers stabbing into my back and sides. She attaches 
her mouth to my left breast and another memory breaks through, as she 
looks up from the ministrations and smiles at me a trail of saliva 
stretches from my nipple into the corner of her mouth. I feel her 
fingers, four of them I think, hit their mark and my scream is a howl 
of pain and pleasure. It doesn't take much and I come in a gruesome 
gush of fluids and blood as I muffle my scream by biting deep into 
her shoulder. 
She gets herself off while I watch with her fingers still lodged 
inside me, she comes in spectacular display of grunts and moans and 
when she's done, when she's done she smears her juice on my lips. 
There is a sickening sound, a plopping watery sound, when she 
dislodges her hands from us. 
Then when it is all over, when she is done with me, she just stands 
up and leaves with her clothes in a bundle in her arms. Whispering an 
empty I love you before closing the door. I once again curl up into a 
ball among the sheets, stained with our fluids and her blood. 
Shocked? Well I never promised you a pretty story.

To be continued...

Please tell me what you think, I was really nervous in writing and 
posting that last scene.