| I wish I'd made friends of my own. I was so busy trying to fit into his world that I never tried to make this place MY world. The only place that's really mine is the Magic Box, and I've tried to take such good care of it.I'm the boss now, and it's my little sanctuary unless it's being used for a Scooby meeting or it's the site of Armageddon. Then I know my place is behind the counter, being quiet. Unless I can tell the damn Scoobies all about some demon they need to kill. Then off Buffy goes to kill the demon, tossing her stripey blonde hair around while she does it. And Xander applauds from whatever patch of ground caught him when the demon knocked him on his ass. It's a convenient little system they've worked out. Xander loves blondes, and he hates demons. I really should've seen the whole left at the altar thing coming. Stupid altar. Stupid Anya and her stupid need to love and be loved. Stupid humans. But I'm Anyanka now, so I don't get why I still crave affection, companionship. Halfrek came to visit me. Shouldn't I feel better now, sharing my troubles with a friend and colleague? I guess I would if she wasn't so busy gloating and acting superior. "Of course he doesn't love you! But you can't hurt him back yourself! Find someone to help you smite him!" Should I feel inferior? Am I a bad demon because I still care? What's wrong with me? Why aren't there more people in this town that hate Xander? He's making a career of being a self-righteous bastard. There must be someone... The doorbell! A customer! A reason to live! Blond hair that makes mine look downright natural! Oh, this is going to be good. If anyone can do some creative cursing, it's the demon who just walked through my door. Numbing spell. He wants a numbing spell. Why can't anyone focus on MY pain for once? Stupid pain. I could use a bit of numbing myself. Got a bottle around here somewhere... He's listening. Listening and agreeing and commiserating. And not once has he tried to defend Xander's motives or tell me how badly Xander feels. And he says he wouldn't bite me, even if he could. And he likes it that I'm honest. Forthright he says; I just say what I think. I remember he had a talent for it himself once. Still get to see it every now and then. I feel so warm inside. I want to believe it's from all I've had to drink, but I get hotter as I stare into his eyes, as he touches my face and lets me know I'm still desirable and it's Xander who's defective. It feels so good to be looked at, to be touched. Everything else is in soft focus, but I can appreciate the comfort he's offering with his eyes, with his hands. He understands. He's hurting too and in this moment I can't stand seeing that. I can't be selfish. What's left of the life I've made for myself is based around the fair exchange of goods and services and right now we have the chance to make a good even swap. It's not cheating. No one has any claim to us, not anymore. It's like he says, we're moving on. Lips. His lips, my lips, smooshing together. I can barely breathe. I need this, so much. Need, need, need. Hunger. Craving. I can tell he feels it as strongly as I do, his body begging from the inside out. It's so intense. I don't want to stop, but we're both so needy now and I want to make damn sure I'm not going to hurt him carelessly. What should I say? I break away for air -he lets me; what a gentleman! -- and inhale deeply. God, he smells good. I ought to tell him so. It's terrible to make the effort to be presentable and have it be ignored. It has to be said, so I'm just going to say it. "You know I'm only doing this 'cause I'm lonely, and I'm drunk, and you smell good." He looks at me. Doesn't seem mad. "See? Forthright." |
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| Solace by Annie Please send feedback to acroewe@flashnet |