|
DISCLAIMER: Nope. No. Zero. Nada.
SUMMARY: Dark B/Wes. "Shades of wrong, shades of grey and sheer
need".
WORDCOUNT: 801
Written for FickleDame. Hope you like it, sweets.
LAND OF WRONG
by Leni
It's wrong, of course. It's unethical, reprehensible and so many shades of immoral that
it's a wonder he can keep his head high and look at the mirror in the day. Wait. He hasn't
done that in a while. No wonder he returns to her again and again, or lets himself be
found when it's her turn to play seeker.
It was never supposed to happen. They used to be too different to fit together, and now
they are too alike to do more than hurt themselves in each other's sharp edges.
Impossible, that's what this should be.
But the impossible becomes reality in the world they live in. If vampires had kids
impregnating their best friends and Slayers had sisters that had never really been, why
couldn't a man and a woman come together in a time of desperated need? He knows it's the
stuff of harlequins and soap operas; he also knows they weren't looking for it, never
expected to find the other offering rest in the same bed. But they did, and they found,
and now here they were, sharing a night here, an hour there, and all the truths that are
as mean as to be true.
They've been through hell - or heaven, that's her truth - and back before. They know the
hurt never heals, instead stays silently under the skin, festering and waiting to graduate
into all-night nightmares. She came back from death against her will to fulfill her duty,
just to find her world upside down. He sacrificed the only stability he'd found and never
was really welcomed back. They gave into darkness then. Because it was easier, not really.
Because it was better, maybe. Because it was something, oh yes. Outcasts in their
own rights, both have become, with too many decisions left in their hands and taking all
the wrong turns making them.
But until now they'd had their own dealing modes when the situation went beyond awry. He
fucked Lilah (because she let him and he could) and she fucked with Spike (because she
could and he let her) and the world made sense. But now Lilah is dead; Spike got a soul,
and had either of them cared that they were left adrift? For weeks madness had
knocked on their door, and they had tried to escape. Just escape. Too haunted by the
ghosts of reality, too afraid to share them because, these days, friends only understood
'friendly'.
They'd somehow found each other in L.A.. Without planning to, without even having given
the slightest thought to the other for months, or weeks, or maybe even years. She'd left
Sunnydale, trying to escape the crumbling walls, trying to outrun a place that'd long
gotten too little for her screams. He'd tried to get lost in L.A., looking for the bottle
that best fit his pain.
They'd hardly recognised each other. She wasn't the little girl he remembered. He didn't
even have the glasses to prove his identity. But the loneliness in the other's eyes, that
they recognised instantly, that blank hopeless blackness that the company of their closest
friends couldn't help. Because hopeless was really hopeless was without hope and would
never be friendly, and both bore the burden of that knowledge. They hadn't exchanged
pleasantries, barely named a few common acquaintances in a mockery of small talk. Too soon
they'd spoken of the things that broke them, maybe because it was easier to talk to
strangers than friends, and they'd never actually been more than foreigners in each
other's lands.
There was a tale of death and one of betrayal, both filled with misunderstanding, anger
and so much pain it could be tasted on their words. She'd told him about Spike and he'd
apologised about not having a demolished warehouse at hand. She'd laughed and replied that
she'd never possess that distinguished polish he'd found in Lilah a year ago.
But that was alright, in all the wrong ways. They'd made a decision and another wrong
turn. Whatever. Loneliness is the scariest thing in the world, she'd laughed as she pulled
him into a kiss. Then laughed harder before whispering that it was okay, to share the
loneliness. 'I should have done this the first time,' she'd said, laughter dead and buried
under their clothes.
He'd leaned down and shut her up for the rest of the night. Shades of wrong, shades of
grey and sheer need. They'd say goodbye the next morning, mumble about mistakes and
half-apologise. They'd also find each other again. Rewind. Repeat. Ad finitum.
He doesn't care. Doesn't look back or look guiltily. If forgiveness is not his, friendship
an old dream and his actions will lead him to the Land of Wrong, at least he can claim he
was always walking at her side.
The End
08/12/04
Feedback
is pretty!
|