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Fic: BtVS: In The End (PG13)
Title: In the End
Author: MelWil
Rating: PG13
Fandom:Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Summary: In the end it was . . .
Feedback: melina.wilson@gmail.com or comment here
In the end it was . . .
Yellow crayons and ice cream on noses. One thousand jokes which have stopped being funny. Vampires and demons and memories of Jesse beginning to blur around the edges. Girlfriends and boyfriends and fiances and stolen kisses and legs brushing underneath tables. And the end of the world again and again and . . .
In the end it was incredible, inevitable, horrible, wonderful, anguished, love filled, sorrow filled . . .
In the end it was just . . . there.
*
Xander looked at the ceiling and tried to cry. Everyone had gone – to the movies, or to the restaurant around the corner or to the local hospital. They wanted to give him space, give him room to cry and remember. To mourn.
He couldn't cry.
He wanted tears. Big nasty tears that would pool in his eye and roll down his cheek. He wanted to sob, to wail to weep. He wanted to be angry at the world.
Nothing.
*
The knock was soft and measured, followed by a pause and a careful call through the keyhole.
“Xander, let me in.”
He stared at the ceiling and sighed. “It's open.”
She pushed the door open and crossed the room, sitting on the bed next to him. “I missed you.”
“Did you get food?” He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at her.
She nodded. “But then there was talk of dancing and unsuspecting men and oversized drinks with undersized umbrellas in them. And I decided no.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I thought you might need me.” Willow wouldn't look away from him.
“I'm fine.”
“Don't lie to me Xander.”
“How do we do this, Will? How can we keep losing the people we love?”
She shrugged. “I went evil and tried to destroy the world.”
“You're just full of the good advice.”
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head into his shoulders. “We deal, Xander. We always have before.”
He rested in her arms and tried to cry.
*
He woke when she was kissing him, her lips pressed against his neck. He moved to protest, to push her away, but she covered his mouth with her own and he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.
She was warm and soft and scarily familiar. He wrapped his arms around her, pushed at the flimsy material of her shirt, pressed his hands against her milky, smooth skin. She left a trail of kisses across his cheeks, nibbling on his ear, her hair falling across his face. He breathed in deeply and he was happy.
It was wrong.
He should be crying. He should be thinking about Anya and her sacrifice. Thinking about all they had lost.
It shouldn't be like this.
She moaned and he removed her shirt and she was in his arms and it was so good and so bad and he couldn't stop himself if he tried.
He didn't try very hard.
*
In the end it would never happen like he wanted it. They were different now, molded from old plastic in new ways. They didn't fit together like they used to.
In the end they had to leave each other, to explore different parts of the world on the pretense of working. He hid himself where no one could touch him and it worked for a little while.
In the end it was unfamiliar moments, uncomfortable silences, hugs that didn't quite connect.
In the end it was yellow crayons and ice cream on noses.
In the end . . . it was just them.
Author: MelWil
Rating: PG13
Fandom:Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Summary: In the end it was . . .
Feedback: melina.wilson@gmail.com or comment here
In the end it was . . .
Yellow crayons and ice cream on noses. One thousand jokes which have stopped being funny. Vampires and demons and memories of Jesse beginning to blur around the edges. Girlfriends and boyfriends and fiances and stolen kisses and legs brushing underneath tables. And the end of the world again and again and . . .
In the end it was incredible, inevitable, horrible, wonderful, anguished, love filled, sorrow filled . . .
In the end it was just . . . there.
*
Xander looked at the ceiling and tried to cry. Everyone had gone – to the movies, or to the restaurant around the corner or to the local hospital. They wanted to give him space, give him room to cry and remember. To mourn.
He couldn't cry.
He wanted tears. Big nasty tears that would pool in his eye and roll down his cheek. He wanted to sob, to wail to weep. He wanted to be angry at the world.
Nothing.
*
The knock was soft and measured, followed by a pause and a careful call through the keyhole.
“Xander, let me in.”
He stared at the ceiling and sighed. “It's open.”
She pushed the door open and crossed the room, sitting on the bed next to him. “I missed you.”
“Did you get food?” He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at her.
She nodded. “But then there was talk of dancing and unsuspecting men and oversized drinks with undersized umbrellas in them. And I decided no.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I thought you might need me.” Willow wouldn't look away from him.
“I'm fine.”
“Don't lie to me Xander.”
“How do we do this, Will? How can we keep losing the people we love?”
She shrugged. “I went evil and tried to destroy the world.”
“You're just full of the good advice.”
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head into his shoulders. “We deal, Xander. We always have before.”
He rested in her arms and tried to cry.
*
He woke when she was kissing him, her lips pressed against his neck. He moved to protest, to push her away, but she covered his mouth with her own and he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.
She was warm and soft and scarily familiar. He wrapped his arms around her, pushed at the flimsy material of her shirt, pressed his hands against her milky, smooth skin. She left a trail of kisses across his cheeks, nibbling on his ear, her hair falling across his face. He breathed in deeply and he was happy.
It was wrong.
He should be crying. He should be thinking about Anya and her sacrifice. Thinking about all they had lost.
It shouldn't be like this.
She moaned and he removed her shirt and she was in his arms and it was so good and so bad and he couldn't stop himself if he tried.
He didn't try very hard.
*
In the end it would never happen like he wanted it. They were different now, molded from old plastic in new ways. They didn't fit together like they used to.
In the end they had to leave each other, to explore different parts of the world on the pretense of working. He hid himself where no one could touch him and it worked for a little while.
In the end it was unfamiliar moments, uncomfortable silences, hugs that didn't quite connect.
In the end it was yellow crayons and ice cream on noses.
In the end . . . it was just them.
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