Yea, I Need You
by Ria
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: If you don’t know by now who they really belong to, then what on earth
have you been watching? Yeah, they don’t belong to me, I’m just playing, honest.
Spoilers: Sure, if you have no idea who Buffy and Faith are. Otherwise, no
specific time or episode mentioned.
Author's Notes: This is F/B slush. Who’s POV you take this from is completely up
to you. I don’t usually write quite so emotionally, but as the first fic that I have written
to be posted, please try and be considerate! Only beta’d by the spell checker.
What do I do now?
What happens when she looks at me, looks at me with that look to her eyes. Looks at me with that hate. I never wanted it to go this far. I love her. Stop laughing. I do love her, it’s just I never knew how to show it, how to tell her. How do you tell another girl you love her when you’re meant to be this heterosexual pining after guys type of a girl. I loved her, and she hated me, and do you have any idea how that feels?
I loved her. Past tense. Except someone forgot to tell my soul it was in the past. Of course I still love her. How am I meant to stop? It’s not something you can just forget, something you can just switch on and off at will. Make it a hell of a lot easier, but you can’t. I can’t. I still love her. More now than I ever did. Because not having someone you love, just makes the yearning, the passion more unbearable, harder to forget. What’s that saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well complete absence makes this heart grow with love, with desire, with absolute need.
We are one and the same. We’re both slayers. We both save this world even if at times we don’t completely agree with the notion that it should be saved. We have our different ways of doing it, sure. Fire, passion, energy, it’s the same within us, we just express it in different ways. Darkness and light. Two sides of the same coin. Slayers both, but as people we couldn’t be more different if someone had purposefully sat down and created us so. And that’s what I love so much. She is different. Different from me in so many ways. And I love our differences. We complement each other. What she is, I’m the opposite, and that makes for a great partnership. Except to be partners, it would kind of help if she didn’t hate me so much.
Why can’t she see it like I do? Why can’t she look within me, within my soul, within her own. See my soul crying out for her, with the desperate need to see her, to touch her, to be with her in any way. It hurts so much. Can’t she feel my pain, my need, my desperation? My desire? We’re meant to have this connection, as slayers, and yet this force that defines me, she is oblivious to. Kind of ironic really. This thing that shapes me, makes me, is me, and she has no idea. No idea at all. If it didn’t hurt so damn much I might have been able to laugh about it. Except it makes me cry. Deep heart wrenching cries because all that I feel, all that I am, all that I want, she cannot see it. She cannot feel it. She doesn’t know it. And it hurts so much.
I’ve never loved before. I thought I had. I thought I had the experience of loving and losing. How wrong I was. Loving someone and losing them is much easier than loving someone but never having them. Not even having the slightest chance in the infinity of the universe to ever have them feel like I feel for her.
Why can’t she feel it? Why can’t she look at me, and feel it too? What is wrong with me? Wrong with her? Why won’t she let herself feel me? Is it so damn hard? Is it really not worth letting the walls down for that one minute so that I can show her everything and more that she is to me? Does she really have so much to lose, that having me in that way, even for a second would really damage her so much? I love her, and she can’t see that, and all I want for her, from her, is for her to be able to feel like I do. See like I do. Desire like I do. Because how can anyone live without this feeling? Without this desire being fulfilled, without this absolute need being met absolutely. What is so hard about this? What is so hard about loving someone that it feels like your world is about to implode in on itself? Why can no one see how I see? Feel as I feel? Am I the only person that feels this? I can’t be. Passion, desire. Intense need that has no hope of being met.
Would it really be so hard for her to see this too?
I look at the phone, willing it to ring, for her to be on the other end, wanting me like I want her. Except she’ll never do that. Never give in, never give up everything for me. I’m not worth it, will never be worth it. What will it take for me to be worth it? What do I have to change, to be, to fulfil this desire that I have inside of me? What is wrong with me that she will never feel like this.
I look to the door, willing it to open, for her to be stood on the doorstep, to be wanting me as I want her. To see the desire mirrored in her own eyes. To be able to lead her and show her, and make her understand what she means to me. What everything about her does to me.
I look to the clock, noting the lateness of the hour. Sleep doesn’t desire me, though, I can’t sleep with this crazy adrenaline of love surging through me.
I walk to the door, my heart hoping even though I know it will be so unlikely to that she will be out too. I walk to the cemetery anyway, feeling everything and anything as I walk in case of that smallest twinge of feeling that I get when I know that she is around. I walk the familiar streets, without seeing, without hearing, concentrating too much, maybe, on feeling instead. I walk round corners, across roads, in a straight line with no actual thought to do so.
The cemetery gates looms large and perhaps foreboding if your very job doesn’t revolve around the horrors that are likely to be lurking inside. The gates, ten feet high, made from cast iron hold little challenge. I jump without the comprehensive thought to do so. Land without realising that my feet had actually left the ground.
The feeling washes over me. The feeling of her, of my sister slayer, close by, within calling distance. Calling to me, calling to my soul, making my every cell, every atom vibrate with energy, with desire, with need. And then my whole body goes crazy as I glance her through the tombstones. I don’t see her physical beauty, although I’m not blind to it. My desire for her goes much deeper, beyond the surface level to her soul, her heart, her very essence. The energy she emancipates. Her strength, her wholeness, her innocence. And she is innocent. You can say what you like about her, but her innocence that is lost in the surface attitudes shines like a beacon underneath, through her soul. Her inner beauty. Her calm, her grace, her very being just seems to connect and become, and make me whole.
And that’s before she turns. Alerted by the same feeling I have, alerted to me staring at her with unhidden eyes.
And for once, she doesn’t shut down, try and close herself off. She looks at me, and for the moment I can’t breath as she looks at me with unbridled passion, need, so much desire, that I feel a tear trace down my cheek.
I realise then.
I realise she does feel it. She does see it. How have I been so blind? Why was she hiding it? I don’t know, but at that moment, as I look deep within her, feel us connecting on a level I never knew existed, I couldn’t care. She’s here, she’s now, and I don’t want anything else.
‘I hoped you’d be out here.’ Her voice sings in me, making me quiver.
‘Funny, I was going to say that.’ I tell her, surprised that my voice is still able to work.
And as she reaches to touch me, the past, the future, everything that is and isn’t disappears around us as a wholeness I never knew I could feel, could be fulfilled surrounds us, binds us, becomes us.
We are whole.