Fresh
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Xander
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,201
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Xander
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,201
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Fresh
Buffy remembers.
She always remembers, of course. It's not the sort of thing you forget so easily. But certain times.. when she touches him, when he speaks, when someone sneaks up behind her and taps her shoulder, she feels that deer-in-headlights fear. The paralyzing fear that freezes her entire body where it stands and might one day kill her for not being able to get out of a vamp's way quick enough.
They flash like disco lights, on off on off. Pieces float around in her mind and try to fit themselves together and she can vaguely remember the entire incident as it happened from beginning to end. His hand on her thigh, forcing it's way up. His lips at her neck with bruising force.
True, there were circumstances then--everything was murky and muddled, and it was a bad situation. Excuses are made in her head over and over again, the best one being "It wasn't him."
It wasn't him.
If it wasn't him, then who was in his body at the time?
It's strange, she assumes, to be thinking about something so small that happened what seems like such a long time ago. So small. So big. So fresh in her mind, as though it were yesterday.
So she makes excuses for him whenever she thinks about it, and goes on with her life. He touches her a lot and usually they're okay. But sometimes it hits, and she remembers and she looks at him with such fear in her eyes.. and he knows.
He remembers, too. Every day.
She lays on her bed and s tos to fit the pieces together again. A phrase here. A touch there. She paints a picture that makes her shake, makes her whole body tense up so tightly that she thinks she might pop.
She clenches her teeth and fists and rides it out, forcing herself to remember. To admit. To know.
It happened.
She was there.. leaning over? He came in. Words were exchanged. He tried to hold her. She pushed him away. He forced his way back.. pinning her to the ground.. it struck her that he was stronger than she. He said something. What had he said as he touched her thigh?
"Guess who just got mean?"
She cried out and opened her eyes, unable to go any further. Her eyes fell on a photo beside her bed. Her, Willow.. and him.
Would she ever forget?
She always remembers, of course. It's not the sort of thing you forget so easily. But certain times.. when she touches him, when he speaks, when someone sneaks up behind her and taps her shoulder, she feels that deer-in-headlights fear. The paralyzing fear that freezes her entire body where it stands and might one day kill her for not being able to get out of a vamp's way quick enough.
They flash like disco lights, on off on off. Pieces float around in her mind and try to fit themselves together and she can vaguely remember the entire incident as it happened from beginning to end. His hand on her thigh, forcing it's way up. His lips at her neck with bruising force.
True, there were circumstances then--everything was murky and muddled, and it was a bad situation. Excuses are made in her head over and over again, the best one being "It wasn't him."
It wasn't him.
If it wasn't him, then who was in his body at the time?
It's strange, she assumes, to be thinking about something so small that happened what seems like such a long time ago. So small. So big. So fresh in her mind, as though it were yesterday.
So she makes excuses for him whenever she thinks about it, and goes on with her life. He touches her a lot and usually they're okay. But sometimes it hits, and she remembers and she looks at him with such fear in her eyes.. and he knows.
He remembers, too. Every day.
She lays on her bed and s tos to fit the pieces together again. A phrase here. A touch there. She paints a picture that makes her shake, makes her whole body tense up so tightly that she thinks she might pop.
She clenches her teeth and fists and rides it out, forcing herself to remember. To admit. To know.
It happened.
She was there.. leaning over? He came in. Words were exchanged. He tried to hold her. She pushed him away. He forced his way back.. pinning her to the ground.. it struck her that he was stronger than she. He said something. What had he said as he touched her thigh?
"Guess who just got mean?"
She cried out and opened her eyes, unable to go any further. Her eyes fell on a photo beside her bed. Her, Willow.. and him.
Would she ever forget?