Snippet: Because Nobody Reads These

["buffythebushkangaroo" <buffythebushkangaroo@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Another dream of being close to her. We've been together for so 
very long, and seen so many strange and twisted things. But only in 
my dreams does she feel the same way about me. Sensual dreams, so 
satisfyingly realistic. When I awaken, it is as though I have always 
known the full flavour of her body.
Every time I see her, she looks more radiant. She fills my mind. 
Every woman with blonde hair that passes reminds me of her. 
Increasingly, I find myself studying other women's hands and thinking 
of hers, fingers uniquely strong yet so graceful.
I guess... I guess that's why I got together with Tara. She was 
willing, and her hair and fingers reminded me so much of Buffy. And 
when we kissed...

*

You were studying for some test or other when I walked in to order 
a mocha and cheese sandwich. I pretended to stare out into the 
street, as if I'd not seen you sitting there alone at the table, 
while secretly studying your dim reflection in the window.

Your neck, your glorious red hair, your hands, and oh your lips... 
I was feeling hot and bothered as I tried to take a sip from my 
scalding mocha. The smoothness of the cup was as my lips brushing 
your skin, and the light cinnamon smell became your scent, your 
essence. Instead of tasting the burning coffee, I was gritting my 
teeth and looking at your neck; no different to the hapless prey it 
is my duty to hunt each night...
And then you looked up into my eyes.
Suddenly, my whole body felt truly alive, as though until now some 
vital part of self had been lost in my resurrection. The winter air 
lost its chill, and once more I could touch upon the fire and know 
its heat.
Your cheeks began to flush, ever so slightly, and you continued to 
hold my stare with your eyes. I was captivated by your gaze; a 
willing slave, held under your spell. Somehow I felt your touch, soft 
and wistful, before you closed your eyes with a look of such sadness 
and turned away.
Unshed tears burned at the back of my eyes as Tara returned to sit 
beside you, kissing your flushed cheek and looking... so at home 
beside you. It takes years to get that comfortable with another. 
Years... and love.
I felt an aching loss at what would never be, what could never 
happen between us. The passion we would never cherish, or push into 
each other's bodies. The sweat I would never taste, the secretive 
smile I would never see.
As my heartbeat thundered in my ears, I struggled to catch my 
breath. But I resolved not to cry here, not to place on cheap display 
my loneliness and anguish.
My loss. Always, my loss.
No, my tears I would save for the simple succour and light embrace 
of a lukewarm bath.

*

Quiet, peaceful, lonely, happy to be in bed, happy to be warm; 
sleepy Buffy.

*

Night after night she has watched her friend sleep fretfully, 
fighting the images of lovemaking, fighting the desire to slip in 
beside the sleeping Slayer and dip her fingers into Buffy's aching 
wetness.
Willow finally finds the resolve to enter Buffy's bedroom, 
unbidden. Tara enters quietly after her, and closes the door upon 
curious Dawn with a tacit finger upon her lips, and an admonitory 
shake of her head. Not this night, Dawnie.
"She needs our help," Willow whispers. "She needs... us."
Tara can do little but nod her agreement. She would die for her 
Willow, has proven this to her love time and again. In contrast, this 
is but a less onerous task.
They advance upon the sleeping Slayer, even as Buffy's younger 
sister stares, eyes wide, through the tiny crack in the door. She too 
is drawn by the attraction that binds them all together, a love of 
the girl with hair like flame.


Anne-Lise.