Addiction, 1/1, Prompt Response #2 - Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

I present to you my prompt response for this week's prompt. As soon as I read it, I started thinking of ways to write this out. My first instinct was to take Spike's side from season 6, and his musings on Buffy.

My muse didn't let me speak to Spike, however. Instead, she brought me Buffy herself, and I in turn bring you this.

Title: Addiction
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #2 - Mens Rea (The Guilty Mind)
Warnings: A little dark. Sexual suggestions. This IS season 6, after all.
Rating: Heavy PG-13 or light R
Summary: It's easy to say you'll quit. It's harder to follow through with it.

Wordcount: 1456

If there's any concrit, again, please let me know! I learned quite a bit from the last prompt response I wrote, and I'm looking forward to learning again. So...teach me, if you want to! ^_^

The day stretched long, longer than she wanted it to. That is, longer than she wanted it to if she'd wanted it to happen in the first place. Between orders from customers, she looked at the clock in despair, wishing that time would speed up. Maybe Willow had a spell.

She felt sort of anxious tired, like if someone touched her, she'd flinch and move away. Most touches aggravated her these days, made her skin crawl and itch and feel out of sorts. Every single time someone reached for her, if even just for a friendly pat or a hug, she'd jerk away uncomfortably, and they'd pull away.

They'd always have this look on their face, like they were disappointed but trying to understand. That sympathy, that pity on their faces made her want to scream. She could feel it building inside of her, clawing at her to get out, to let loose a primal sound of fury and desperation that would make them cover their ears and leave her alone.

Instead she'd turn away and focus on something else, trying to be the Buffy they knew. She was the one that was confident and a good leader and someone that didn't let them down. She was the one that might be a little cold sometimes, but she was there for them without fail. Because she was, simply put, Buffy. She was the hero.

She didn't want to be the hero, though. She'd been the hero and saved the world as a hero. What had it gotten her? Peace and rest? No. She'd been dragged back into...into...this. And it made her want to scream again.

She couldn't scream here. If she screamed here in DoubleMeat Palace, the family of four in the corner would shiver and run. Her boss would come out and tell her she was fired, and she'd have failed. Again. She seemed to do that a lot lately.

She wasn't there for her sister anymore. She wasn't there for the Scooby meetings or the video nights they still did occasionally. She felt guilty sometimes, if she let herself. Most of the time, she simply closed herself off and went through the motions. She felt hollow inside, like a drum that people beat on and used but didn't notice until it broke.

She shouldn't even be alive. She wanted to feel alive again, wanted to remember what it felt like to have her pulse race, to feel like there was something inside of her that kept her fighting, that kept her with the rest of the world. She wanted to remember what it felt like to be Buffy, the hero that didn't quit.

She didn't want to remember being Buffy the DoubleMeat Palace employee, where there was grease and smells that caused her stomach to turn and made her swallow convulsively.

She glanced at the clock again, and her shoulders sagged in relief at the time. Five in the afternoon meant she could leave, that she could go home. She'd planned her work schedule out this way, so she could head home and spend time with her sister and friends more.

As she gathered her things and changed her clothes in the back room, however, that same nagging feeling caught her. She could go someplace where touches felt good. She could go someplace where she wouldn't get looks of pity and she could scream to her heart's content. She could go someplace where she felt alive again, if just for a little bit.

It was like a drug, her dirty little fix, and she would never tell the others about it. Every time, she didn't want to need it. She wanted to be able to go home to the others, to not have to need what he gave her. It wasn't normal, and it certainly wasn't good for her. She should've been able to do without it.

Every time, she promised herself that she would go straight home. She gathered her things, pulled her hair up tight and nice, made sure her clothes were completely fastened and straightened. Once she was ready, she walked out the door, leaving her horrible work behind her. She always walked towards home, and sometimes she would almost get there. Other days, like today, she didn't even make it two blocks.

Every time, she found herself turning from the street that would take her home. She turned down one street, turned right onto another street, and angled across the road was the back entrance to his cemetery. She knew where the fence was weakest, and she pushed through every time, promising herself that this was the last time she would do this.

This would be the last time she passed through these headstones. This would be the last time she pulled her hair down around her face. This would be the last time she undid the top three buttons on her shirt so her bra showed just a little, and certainly the last time she shimmied her jeans down to rest just so on her hips. This would be the last time she entered his crypt and headed straight downstairs where she knew he was. She descended the ladder, knowing without feeling or seeing him that he was there, waiting to give her what she needed. This was the last time; she wouldn't do this anymore.

Every time, though, she knew it wouldn't be the last time. She kept needing him, needing what he gave her. It wasn't devotion or love in the slightest. It was a raw need that consumed her, urged her on and clouded her reason and judgment. It was an addiction, and she didn't want to need it.

She really did, though. She didn't know how else to feel alive.

The others would never understand why she felt like she did. They wouldn't understand why she let Spike touch her there, and there, and especially there where it hurt so good. They wouldn't understand why she let him writhe against her, dig his fingernails into her back, nip and bite her body in all sorts of places and leave her breathless and begging for more.

If they knew, they would stare at her in disgust and horror. They might try to blame it on Spike first, but they'd figure it out eventually. This was all Buffy and her horrible need, and they could never understand.

He was her dirty little secret, something she regretted later and felt guilty about every time. When her breath came back, her need sated again, her stomach clenched, the wonderful feeling of release fading quickly in the face of her newer emotions. She felt dirty and horrible and unclean, like she did every other time. How could she need this? She quickly got dressed, unable to bear looking at him after that, and made her way upstairs and outside.

She walked home alone, letting the thoughts churn in her head. She was like a junkie, and it was disappointing and wrong. She couldn't do it again. She wouldn't do it again. She promised herself no more. That was the absolute last time. She couldn't believe she'd done that again, and she felt lower than dirt. Again. How could she face everyone with her secret?

She stopped in front of the house, already knowing the answer to her own question. She'd face them the exact way she always faced them: with a guilty mind and a lying heart.

When she reached her house, she apologized to the others for being late and said something went wrong at work. Something always went wrong at work. They gave her those looks and glances, all of them full of pity, and she felt the scream start to burn and build inside of her. They talked for a little bit, and she headed up to bed. She hid the bite marks and the scratches well beneath her pajamas, and she crawled into bed, thinking about the next day.

She wouldn't go back to him. She didn't want to feel guilty anymore. If she stopped doing it, she wouldn't have anything to feel guilty about. It was as simple as that. She would deny her cravings, and soon, her life would go back to normal. Well, it would be as normal as it had ever been. She wouldn't let this secret eat her away inside anymore.

She knew, though, that the next day would bring more pity looks, more grease and terrible smelling things that made her stomach twist into knots and cause her scream to build. She knew that the next night, she wouldn't be strong enough to turn away. She hadn't been strong enough tonight, so how was tomorrow going to be any different? She would go to him, and he would satisfy her growing need; he'd be her dealer for her addiction.

He was her dirty little secret, and so long as she kept doing it, the secret would stay with her. It would leave her, if she could just stop going to him. As soon as she quit, it wouldn't prey on her mind anymore.

She knew it was going to be on her guilty conscience for a long time.

All comments of all sorts are greatly appreciated. You guys are really helping me become a better writer.

Comments

[rachel2205.livejournal.com]

This is really, really good, hon. You really capture her self disgust and her despair. Big thumbs up!

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you thank you thank you! That's what I was aiming for, so very glad I got that. ^_^

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

(I didn't know it had plural; learn something new every day!)

Here's another version:

They wouldn't understand why she let Spike touch her here and there and especially there (first 'there' is now a 'here')

Or

They wouldn't understand why she let Spike touch her there, and there, and especially there (commas still there, but 'and' added in front of the second 'there' to break it up a little)

Please let me know!

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Really glad I hit the emotions just right. ^_^

Oh, you know she would do it. (I'd do it. ~_^)

I see what you mean. It really does look a bit like that, doesn't it? I played with it a bit, and the over emphasizing looks good, but just not the direction I was aiming for. I took out the commas instead, and came up with this:

They wouldn't understand why she let Spike touch her there and there and especially there where it hurt so good.

Don't worry; what you said makes perfect sense. It would sound great if spoken, but reading it just doesn't work. I'll play with it a bit more, but thank you so much for spotting it for me!

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

ROFL, that's what I thought last night, but I thought it was just me. Guess not....~_^

Thanks so much for the concrit sweetie!

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

LOL, your story is wonderful! I don't usually like a darker Dawn and Spike fic, but yours has really pulled me in. If you really wanted me to glance over the latest bit, though, and see if I spot anything, I could. You did such an awesome job for my fic! ^_^

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

I think there might be. You'd have to friend me first, but I'd love to add you to my f-list. ^_^

Then head up to the 'Manage' tab, and then to 'Friends'. There's a link once you get to that page called 'Edit Custom Friends Groups'. Just click the 'New' button on the bottom, give the group a name, then only add me into the group. Click 'Save Changes', then head to update your journal with the post. Change the Security at the bottom to 'Custom...', then select your group. I should be the only person to see it, then.

Complicated, I know. LOL

I may be gone most of today (as it's Friday), so if you post it by today, I'll look this evening let you know what I see.

~Nebula

[texanfan.livejournal.com]

A character study in raw emotion. This works very well. The language is evocative and the hopelessness she's combating shines through.

One minor criticism. She's walking to the crypt (you make that very clear) then suddenly she's walking into her house. The addition of a line or two about either entering or leaving the crypt (describing what happens inside would be superfluous for this story) would make this less jarring.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thanks sweetie; really glad the emotions stood out.

That was a concern of mine as well. I don't think I made it nearly clear enough. I was hoping this line would do it

This would be the last time she entered his crypt and headed straight downstairs where she knew he was.

But since it doesn't, I'll work on it and see what I can do. Thanks hun!

~Nebula

[texanfan.livejournal.com]

I think I didn't state what I meant very clearly. Sorry about that. You do have the action but this is a story of emotion, almost exclusively, and there's no break point of the emotional transition. From desperate to have her fix to the self loathing or disappointment or emotional let down or whatever she feels when it's over. It's that emotional transition I'm looking for.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Huh...I'll have another look. I do get what you're saying now, and I'll try and look for a way to change it without changing the piece too much. Thanks hun.

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Okay, I think I've got it fixed. Start from "He was her dirty little secret" and see if that flows any better. It puts her immediately afterwards, the sudden change of her hormones and need fading away to reason. Thank you again sweetie for staying with me on this one.

~Nebula

[frk-werewolf.livejournal.com]

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. This definitely fits Buffy in the 6th Season. I love the raw guilt, with that hint of desire, that you've given her.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much sweetie! Glad it really hit Buffy spot-on like that. Her in season 6...I didn't understand, never really got until I went through something of my own. I connect with her a lot more these days...

*squishes*

~Nebula