a.connor  a.doyle  a.lindsey  a.oz  a.spike  a.wesley  a.xander  a.other  three.somes  het.fic  character.study           
Title: My Dark Life Take Two
Author: Kassie
Rating: PG
Setting: AtS 'Disharmony' and BtVS 'Forever'

 
 

Real and imagined the theme for the night. The cold, jade circle real
as anything sitting in my palm, the silk thong lost somewhere in all
the moves, movement in the last hundred years. Riding along with me
in my pocket, unbroken line of remembrance of the last night with
Darla. Not the last night now.  The second to last.

Cherry lip gloss still echoing on my tongue and mouth, more ephemeral
memento of the other Love Of My Life. Pants still secreting away
grains of sand and pieces of dirt collected under the tree at the
graveside of Her Mother. They'll fall out and collect in the creases
of the chair beneath me. Grain by grain to be found days and years
from now, spelling out the hollowness one bit at a time.

So many kisses between me and the Two. Why now does the hidden truth
seek me out? My own petty psychology strangling me as I roll the
circle between my fingers? So obvious, my love for Darla finally
dead, ashes and smoke consumed in the consummation of the
obliteration of everything that could have been us or we.  With it
falls the other love, the replacement. Sunlight and gold to stand in
for moonlight and silver. That one returned when I always assumed the
other was not. Wrong on so many fronts  that all the nuances will
take another century to find me.

Chasing what I thought was The Ultimate possession. Being in love.
Scourge of Europe, Saviour of the Innocent, and still trapped by the
fairy tales and the mythology of valentines and sugar-sweet romance.
Almost gave up the real, quantifiable kind of love twice, once for
each of the Two. Obsession sliding under my skin and into my veins,
Darla.  Off-handed invitation and needful open mouth, Buffy.

All the while, the unconditional love of friendship trodden
underfoot.  For so long just a burden in my mind, three breathing,
sweating, whinging possessions keeping me moribund with regret and
mindful of what I was and still am. So many nights I planned detail
by detail extinguishing them, whether by fang and fist or by word and
deed.  Came so close with both plans.

And here I am now, them downstairs, me up here. Wanting nothing more
than to have that time back. To have seen in Buffy's eyes the truth
before last night. To not have had to reap the Darla whirlwind to see
that fixation and loss of self is not love. Sharing burdens and
easing of solitude, exchange of laughter and knowledge of mistakes
made, forgiveness, that's love. Three to take the place of two, and
it should be enough to fill the void, but somehow I just don't think
it ever will. The promise of love so much richer in the imagining
than the having of the real thing.

-End

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