*****
Standing still is an illusion. No such thing really. Even when you're standing still you're still moving. Breath and blood flows through the proper channels. Heart beats. Chemicals and hormones release and are processed. The body, or for that matter, the earth, spins on oblivious to stillness. From atoms to black holes, everything moves and changes. Even the dead and the undead. Well ya know, minus the whole breathing and heart beating deal. Nothing is eternal. Or immortal. Not people. Not things. Not even the supposedly 'timeless' concepts. Not really. The idea of a concept or thought, like love, truth, good or evil, being eternal and definable is ludicrous. Like people, truth, love, or whatever is constantly in motion... Constantly redefined by the society or era it stands in... By the person who's dealing. Shades of gray. Revelation and revolution.
Hell, the entire concept of 'Romantic Love' as an ideal was only just invented... Uhm, somewhere around the Dark Ages, I think. A baby in conceptual terms, or maybe a teen considering the hormones involved.
I can hear Devon quacking in the back of my head. He always believed that once, and that was once not if, we made it big- Hit the big rich and famous bonanza buffet- we'd be immortal. Never had the heart to clue him in, that fame is only as good as the memory of the crowd. That music wasn't any more eternal than love or vampires. Oh, it has its power. It can elevate or depress, bring tears of joy or despair, spark rage or passion, or passionate rage even, but all inside the individual interpretation or definition. Whether it's an individual person or an individual society.
Music has always been my one personal passion. It has always stayed with me. I know you think I've just contradicted myself... No. Not really. I'm not saying music is constant or forever to me or for me... It's not any of those things. Hell, it's not even faithful! You start with one note, or even a string of notes... A begining. and where you start is never where you think you'll end up. A lot like life... Constant motion remember? Maybe it'd be more accurate to say, I've stayed with it, rather than it stayed with me. Even though sometimes it feels more like it possesses me, than the other way around. Or is that the ultimate narcissism? Huh. Need to think about that one some more.
Oh, I've had other passions... People and things that have changed me. Made me redefine who I am and what my place was... Willow for one. My first great love, after music. She made me laugh. She made me live in the tactile now, and for a short while, in the future. The land of 'what might of have beens'... Still love her. Always will. But our time has moved on. Moved on and away. As clich� as this sounds, I hope we can still be friends. Real friends. Not the ones who make the noises, but growl and bleed when no one's looking. I think I can, that it's possible for me. Well, having someone, or rather the possibility of someone, in my life makes it easier. Sometimes though, the wolf is tricky and doesn't always agree with me.
Oh man. Okay, that was a little too 'Three Faces of Eve'. The wolf. A separate name like it's somehow not part of me. It's not separate from me really. Not at all. It's not like I have an evil twin. Well, not in this universe anyway, that's another headtrip.
No, I just have a different set of instincts and motivations from most people. Something that doesn't always get along with the societal set that was drummed into me sometime during the sandbox set. I am the wolf and the wolf is me. It took me a long time to come to that realization, and even longer to accept it. To be able to say it out loud. I am the wolf and the wolf is me. And I can't even say it changed me that much. Not after I finally accepted it, or would that be accepted myself? I was always a coaster, moving through my life and living in my head. The wolf part of me only reflects that more graphically. A roamer. Part time dreamer. Part time philosopher. Cynic and survivor.
Want to know a secret? The wolf part of me didn't like Willow very much. Sometimes she smelled wrong. Really wrong. I think it was the magic. It made me want to growl when she stank of magic. One set of eyes saw Willow as a gentle, kind and loving person. The one. The soul to cherish above all others. The other set saw a power house witch with the ability to reshape reality. I loved her and she made my hackles rise at the same time. It was driving me mad. On some level, that I don't like to admit, it was almost a relief that Veruca came along and gave me, us really if Willow is ever honest with herself, an excuse. Oh and Veruca? Hated Veruca. Yeah, I know we had sex. But come on, only a child thinks sex and love are mutually inclusive. But that thing with Veruca wasn't about love or sex. Not even close. It was about power and winning on both our sides. She thought I'd be a weak mate. Someone she could cow, corrupt and control. Someone to play with until she either broke me or found a true mate. Me? I wanted her beaten and bloody, offering her throat in submission. Then I would have killed her. Harsh, huh. Ah, but that's wolf instincts for you. You're either top dog or you're the bitch. And believe me, gender has little to do with it. It's an alpha thing.
On the flip side, the wolf really liked Buffy and Giles. Both strong, steady pack mates. It's kinda strange I never had the impulse to jump, choose a context, either of them. Buffy would have kicked my ass. She knows it. I know it. No problem. Not an issue. Giles though... He plays the beta, but he's an alpha in beta's clothing. You never wanna cross that man or piss him off. No, to get Giles you'd have to ambush him out of the blue, 'cause once he got the scent, you'd be dead. Huh. Okay, maybe it's not so strange I never felt pulled toward either of them.
Pulled. It's such a weak word for the connection I feel with Xander. Drawn. Compelled. I want Xander. Want him with all of me. Wolf and human. Have for a very long time. He's the heart of that little Hellmouth pack. He holds them together, sometimes at the cost of little pieces of himself. He's like the morning sunlight: bright and warm, full of promise and hope. You can't help but smile, 'cause all is right with the world. Smart and strong, even if he doesn't realize it. Dark and deadly when he has to be... Xander. He's mate material. Alone, he's not much of a threat to anyone or anything. Oh, I think he'd go down swinging, death before surrender and all, but he'd still go down. But given a partner, a pack, and he'd be unstoppable. Do you know what the difference between a good leader and a bad leader is? The battles they choose. And don't fool yourself... there's always a choice. All of me wants all of him. The dark and the light.
So finally, here I stand at his door, and I can't help smiling at his chatter. So like Willow's and yet so different. And I think for a moment everything stills and I haven't been gone for so long, though I know that's an illusion. And I want it all. I want forever. Even though I know that's not possible. So, I'll take a lifetime, if he'll give it to me, and call it forever. I mean really? It's all subjective anyway.
"Good to see you, Xander."
The End