"Its 3 a.m. I must be lonely. . ." --Matchbox 20
Sometimes, I lie awake at night and wish away the last four years. I wish I was still that fluffy, clueless (as if!), Hemery High freshman who had no idea there really are monsters in the closet(mummies), under the bed (trolls), and in every dark alley that I speed walked past while clutching my purse (vampires). I wish I didn't have blood on my hands (under my nails, can't wash it out). Or would it be on my conscience? Giles tells me that I've done more good than harm. (i like tea and scones) That, without me, Sunnydale would be a thousand times worse off. That doesn't make it any easier to accept the ones I couldn't save. Jesse. Principal Flutie. Teresa. Miss Calendar. Mr. Platt. Larry and all the others who died at graduation (does harmony count?). Faith. People I didn't really know and people I thought I knew. Giles may tell me I've done "insurmountable things" (whatever that means), but I let the woman he loved die. And the man I loved isn't even really a man, is he? He's in L.A. Far away from me and still written on my soul. (harlequin much?)
Sometimes I wish I'd kept my arms around Pike and sped off on the back of his motorcycle to wherever it is that he ran when the going got tough (weenie land). Sometimes I wish I'd never met Angel. (okay, not really) Or that I'd staked Angelus after we blew up the Judge at the mall and stopped all the misery he caused. Or that I'd stayed in that crappy little diner, stayed Anne, and never come home (i hate pantyhose. ugh).
But that's the thing. . .its home. The Hellmouth. Lying in my bed, awake, and hearing Willow breathing in the bed just a few feet away, I know I couldn't have let her or Xander get turned like Jesse. I couldn't have let Giles die inside that factory. I couldn't have let Cain shoot Oz. I couldn't let the Initiative have Spike. (nope, not even spike) Okay, I did let Angel die once. I killed him with my own two hands--but he didn't stay dead, did he? (thank god) I couldn't let him. They needed me. (like they needed a tumor) I still need them. (too much)
After I wish away the four years, I always wish them back. I'm the Slayer and that's the way its going to stay. (st.buffy. buffy of arc) I really can't escape my destiny. But I still feel like I'm running. Its like the biggest monster of all, swiping at my heels as I pump my legs and will them to go faster and faster. (away) What am I running to?
Sometimes I picture this tunnel with a light, like you're supposed to see when you're dying, but instead of death, there's life at the end .(mikey likes it) Depending on how much Ben & Jerry's and stress I've had, that life takes on a different body and a different face. After Willow's screwed up spell, I saw Spike at the end. Every night. It made me wake up gasping for air and rolling over to cuss at her. She'd just hand me a cookie (i hate raisins) from a stash under her bed and look pained and guilty. Not that seeing Spike was that bad, I guess. (rock the cradle of love) He's the most fun enemy I've ever had. He's not all that annoying most of the time and some of the best fights I've ever had, I had with him. Okay, okay, he's a pretty great kisser, too, but I am never going to admit that in the light of day. (maybe if i'm drunk?) Before the spell, it was Angel at the end of the tunnel. Without fail. I'd recognize his shadow, his essence, any of trace of him, anywhere. (buffy the bloodhound) Hoping that he'd come back. (buffy the optimist) Especially when I went to see him after Thanksgiving. Fat lot of good that did. My one true love, the souled, guilt-ridden vampire. (ha.)
I'm the still the Slayer and still not wishing that away. Really. (really?)
Lately, its Riley Finn at the end of the tunnel. (floppy hair) God forbid I fall for someone normal. First I fall for a surfer-boy who'd rather motor than commit. (jerk) Second, a vampire. (martyr) Then, a couple of guys that were too normal. (boooring) Most recently, there was an asshole. (parker bad.) And then I messed around with another vampire for a few hours. But a secret military agent? (agent orange? secret agent man?) An All-American, farm boy (fetch me that pitcher), Psych T.A. who moonlights catching demons, doing emasculating things to them, and slaying, too? I've hit the jackpot of weirdness. (ohhh yeah, cherry cherry cherry, big winner!) Then again, that might mean that Riley knows exactly how I feel. That he's somewhere (out there beneath the pale moon light), lying in bed, staring up at his ceiling and having the same huge mess of thoughts. (or doing naughty things) Maybe he wishes away parts of his life, too. And maybe he wishes it all back, too.
It all comes down to duty. We've both got one--its practically the same one. And, yeah, he's a good kisser, too--almost knocked me off my feet when we couldn't talk. (kisses like he shoots) But wouldn't this mean I'd run from my destiny creep monster right back into it? Do I want that? The couple that slays together, stays together? (yikes. wiggins.)
Its enough to make me wake up gasping. If I were(was?) asleep, that is. Instead, I'm wishing. Just wishing. I don't know who's going to be at the end of the tunnel next week. (brad pitt? james spader?) I'm sure I'll find out. In the mean time I've got classes and patrols and the things that go bump in the night. (the bogeyman) All in all, being a not-fluffy, clued-in, UC-Sunnydale freshman isn't so bad. Neither is being the Slayer. (mr. gordo is soft. its 3:42 a.m. yuck. early classes tomorrow. I'm so so sl ee py )
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