It is she truly wants. I’m horrible at summaries, but please read and let me know what you think.
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
If this is layed out funny, sorry.
by Ciley
I'm supposed to explain myself to them. For some reason they've decided that they're better judges
on what's right for me than I am.
Or who's right for me on this occasion. We've known you for nearly your entire life they say.
Apparently they're forgetting all of last year when they didn't have a clue as to what was going on
with me. Sometimes I think they still don't. "Talk to us," they'd say after I let something slip.
I told them everything. Things I couldn't justify even to myself. Things I hated to say. Things they
didn't want to hear.
Things they didn't hear.
I've asked them about it and every single time they adamantly remind me how they listened to every
single word I said.
Listened.
That wasn't where my argument lay. I know they listened. It's the hearing that's the problem. While I
know they listened, I also know that there ws a good deal (if not all of it_ hat they didn't hear. And
they know it too.
I guess it's just easier for them this way. Nothing to deal with. It's my fault too, though. I've let it all
slide. I haven't held them to anything they said that night. Before they "listened" to me. Afterwards
they didn't have anything to say.
Out of all of them not a word was uttered. All they did was look at me with looks of pity and barely
concealed contempt that I’m sure they thought I saw as looks of sympathy. And love.
But as they said they've known me for so long. And I know them better than they know me. They
can't fool me. I know good and well what they were thinking.
How I disappointed them.
How I destroyed every ideal they ever held for me.
And I now know how they've made themselves forget each and every word I said--in order to tape and
glue the ideals back together and how they put me back on that pedestal.
And how at the moment that everything's being threatened, they hold me up with all their strength. Knowing that's not where I belong, not anymore. If they let go, they know. I'll come crashing back to
the ground where I belong.
I contemplate not doing this to them, allowing them to tink of me the way they want for as long as
they want.
But that's not possible. I'm getting dizzy, there are bruises appearing all over my lims and my feet are
sore.
The pedestal in the clouds is not my place.
And my heart's sore. That's the real reason I have to do this. If I don't there won't be any of me left for
them to idolize.
It's not what I promised him I would do either. And it's that thought that let's me know I am going to do
it.
They can spend as much time as they want telling me why I'm wrong; as much time as they want not
hearing me; and as much time as they want convincing themselves I'm not doing this.
They can do all of that and still I'll do it. And everything will be fine.
Good.
As perfect as life can be.
And he'll put me back on a pedestal. But he won't have to hold me there. It's somewhere where I'll belong.
And this will be different.
Be perfect.
It'll work because he'll be right next to me.
Up where I put him.
While I'm where he put me. We'll both belong there because we belong together.