The final POV in the series.
And then it stopped. And then it was quiet, and the only light was the far off glint of sunrise.
Everyone was looking at her. Looking at Buffy. And then Xander stepped forward and he threw her to the ground. He punched her, he battered her. I could hear screaming, though I couldn't locate it. I was concentrating on Xander. On the play of his muscles as he threw bricks, on the hard set of his jaw, on the bleakness of his eyes. I could hear bones breaking. I could smell blood.
I was very busy for the next little while. It's always challenging to move into a new place. Even if it's a place you've been before. I made myself comfortable. No need to deny oneself the creature comforts.
It took me longer than expected to get my bearings. I'll admit that I wasn't myself the first few weeks, I was easily distracted. I was watching everyone very closely, the dynamics of this new family were odd. So unlike anything I had experienced before. Windows and open doors became my domain. Countless hours did I spend in rapturous attention. Watching. Learning. Yearning. Wondering. Wandering.
I spent a great deal of time on my hair. I liked the way curls set of the intense fire of my hair, how they framed the liquid green of my eyes. It was a new look for me. Softer, more flirtatious. A girl likes to look her best after all. I just wish I wouldn't neglect myself so. I look so tired, so worn.
I thought that I understood everything, that I had firm grasp on the relationships in the house. But perhaps I hadn't paid close enough attention, because it caught me by surprise when Tara began throwing accusations at me.
Dog in the manger? Over Xander? Ridiculous. Xander belongs to me, he always has. Why would I possibly feel any jealousy? Hate Anya? Why would I hate something so insignificant? Xander loves her? Impossible. Xander loves me. I can prove it. He would come to me in the flash of a smile, the wink of an eye.
I can not possibly have heard her correctly. She and I are talking so quickly that I have to strain to make out what is being said. There is something a little off about her. Her wild eyes, her lank hair, her muttered asides. But one of her observations was correct, when had girls ever been enough for me? Especially when I had a vampire so nearby.
I could feel the heat of his gaze, the chill of his skin, the strength of his body. I could sense his power. I wanted to devour him. I wanted to sate myself with him. I wanted to be full. It has been so long since I was full.
I could smell the lust on the night air, it was overpowering. I was drunk with it, intoxicated with the power I held over him, with the soft, familiar flesh I held in my hand. The sounds of passion carried to my ears.
And then. And then.
How dare he? How dare he push me away? Me. Who was he to reject me.
Idiot. Doesn't he know that I could steal his sight with the flick of a finger? That I could end his life with the touch of my hand? I could rip his heart out and eat it whole.
It's been so long.
I'm going to fuck the first thing I find.
Life is dull. Nothing happens. So much talking. Babbling about weddings, nattering about finances, whining about mice. I long for excitement.
It's nice when I get my way.
There was a frantic flight from the house. Xander had her in his arms, cradling her with those strong arms which should be around me. That stupid vampire, Spike, drove them away. And I knew, I just knew that of the three that left that night, only two would return.
I could barely contain my glee. Then I realised, why should I? And I gripped my nipple through the linen of my camisole and I squeezed it while I thought of what Xander and I would soon be doing. Together, like we were meant to be.
But when Xander returned he was sorrowed. Why should he be sorrowful? What game was he playing? He didn't love her, he couldn't possibly love her. Why would he pretend this anguish? Why would he perpetuate this farce?
And then I knew, he was teasing me. He was stretching out our time apart. He was torturing me.
I availed myself of the closest pair of lips, not caring who they belonged to. No reason why I have to wait. Delaying gratification is not my strong suit.
Why can't these people shut up? Homework. Housework. Scut work. I'm busy. I've got things to do. Projects to complete. Why can't you leave me alone? I'm not your mommy.
Well, maybe I wouldn't mind being Xander's mommy. What do you think Xander? You're being such a naughty boy. I think that you need to be punished.
What is taking him so long? Can't he sense me? Can't he feel my longing? Why do you keep up this charade? Come to me, I'll make you happy. Or maybe I'll make you miserable. I think that you'd like that.
Great. More trauma. More Sturm und Drang. More smoke and mirrors. More fucking Oprah moments. Just leave already Giles. I don't want this to keep dragging on and on.
What the fuck is the deal Xander? I'm right here. Open your eyes. Maybe I should just grab you, back you up against a wall. Maybe I should rub against you, shred your shirt with my nails. Maybe I should tease you with my mouth, little nibbling kisses against you face, your neck. Maybe I should lick my way across you chest, biting at your nipples. Maybe I should roll my tongue around your balls, sucking them into my mouth. Maybe, ohhh. Yeah. That's what I should do. Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you baby?
But what is he doing?
You're crying over that, over her, aren't you?
I can't believe it. You're so weak. You're worthless. Why have I been waiting for you? You're disgusting. You're so human. How can I even stand to be near you? To touch you?
Ugh. That's just repulsive. What? What am I doing? I can't believe that I'm actually touching his vomit, cleaning up his mess. What is wrong with me? Why on earth am I staying there? Why on earth do I care about him?
Well, I can stay there if I want, but I've had enough.
Portals have brought me nothing but banality.
I wonder what's going on at the Bronze?