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Title: Putting the Damage On
Name: Bitch Willow
Email Address: bitch_willow@willowymail.zzn.com
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters are from BTVS, owned not by me but by lots of other people. A scene from WAH is actually used, but I can’t remember who wrote it. Tori Amos wrote and owns the songs.
Author’s Note: Takes place sometime during “Goodbye Iowa.” Big goddamn spoilers for “Wild At Heart.” Very angsty. And also, sorry for all the swearing. Writing this made me angry.
Summary: Willow listens to Tori Amos. Broods. Cries.
Her tears were soaking into the mattress.
Not that it mattered. It was stripped bare. It had looked so naked when she’d come into the room; she’d felt naked, remembering all the times she’d slept on that bed. All the times she’d (they’d) made love on that bed.
Her tears didn’t matter. No one slept on this bed anymore but her, and no one knew that she slept here, now that all his things were gone. The room still smelled dimly of him.
Him and her. Together. She can still dimly recall the feel of his flesh on hers; the way he’d take the time to run his lips over every single part of her body, to hold her hands softly in his own and kiss the palms.
By now it didn’t even feel like crying anymore. The tears just spilled naturally from beneath her fiery-looking eyelashes, down her pale face, to catch on the sides of her lips. She’d bitten them until they were swollen, but all it did was remind her of how he used to kiss her.
She felt…blank. At least for awhile there she’d been hurt…then angry…then depressed. Now she just felt nothing. She loved him. She hated him.
She wanted him back.
But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now. The last time something had mattered…was when he had left.
His lips on her forehead, so soft.
* * *
glue
stuck to my shoes
does anyone know why
you play with an orange rind
She walked into his bedroom hesitantly, politely knocking on the door first. Things had been awkward lately, but this fear was new.
She didn’t know what he was capable of.
But she brushed that thought off as she entered the room, looking for him. The room appeared unoccupied, but she felt him in there. He was in there somewhere.
He walked into her eyeshot quickly. She knew that he must have smelled her long before she had even gotten to the stairs (her special scent: he used to grin, bury his face in her neck and breathe in, baby, I love how you smell…), but he had stayed in the closet until she was fully in the room. As in, apparently wasn’t going to run out at any given second.
Apparently.
But he shrugged that off and dumped his armload of clothes into the duffel bag on the bed, steadfastly avoiding her eyes. She spoke first. “Hello.” Her voice sounded anxious, saddened, weak, even to her own biased ear. He flinched visibly to hear her so broken.
“Hey.” He kept his eyes to the ground, but raised them long enough to see the pain in her eyes. I’m a reminder now, he informed himself, of everything that has happened.
Everything that has happened. What a mild way to put it.
He saw her gesture to his bag. “What’re you doing?” This time she simply sounded curious, but he flinched again anyway.
“I’m going.” His voice was charcoal gray, flat and empty, as though when he’d ripped the bitch’s throat out, he’d killed a part of himself too. The taste of blood was still to fresh on his tongue for him to be around her, but there was no helping it now.
you say you packed my things
divided up what's mine
Her voice was harsh, scratchy. Raw, was the word he was trying not to think. “That’s your solution?”
He bit his lips, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. He had never cried before, ever. But now those stupid foreign things were threatening to spill down his cheeks in torrents. He had hurt her.
That’s
why I have to leave.
He answered her quickly, not as levelly as he would have liked. “It’s my decision.” Trying to convince himself of that.
This time when he looked up at her she had an odd smile on her face, one he’d never seen before. This smile was bitter, cynical. She’d been so fucking innocent before him…
“Do I get any say in this?”
Oh God. He knew. He knew that she deserved a say in whatever the hell this relationship was and would turn out to be, but he couldn’t give this to her. She’d ask for him to stay, given the choice. Or, she probably would. And if she didn’t, if she let him go of her own accord…well, that’d be worse.
He shook his head. “No.” Searching for a way to open up his soul, to reveal what he was thinking. “Veruca was right…about something.” Her eyes barely moved at the mention of her name. “The wolf is inside me…all the time, and I don’t know where that line is anymore. Between me. And it.” He practically spat the word it; if he’d been someone else he would have. He hated it. He hated himself. As it was, he could barely keep the beast inside of him from attacking. Or grabbing her and never letting her go. Mate. “And until I figure out what that means, I can’t be around you.” Her face crumbled, and he quickly added, “Or anyone.” Really, he had meant “anyone,” but she was the only one who mattered, anyway.
you’re off to the mountain top
I say her skinny legs
could use sun
Tears were slipping down her pretty face, and she looked away, then back at him again. That hard little voice was back, and she set her chin, looking right at him. “Well, that could be a problem. Cause, people? Kind of a planetary epidemic.”
“I’ll find a place.” His soft voice cut into the silence, hacked it to death with a rusty blade. Silence would have been less cruel.
She shook her head, and he wondered at her thoughts. What she was thinking. He personally hadn’t had a thought since he’d made the decision to leave. If he'd thought about it, he would have stayed there with her forever.
This is bullshit. She was holding her
arms, hugging herself softly. It was so cold, like all of the warmth had been
sucked out of the room, into this vacuum of…nothingness. If you’re going to leave because you need to deal, say that. Don’t make it out like you’re trying to save
me.
You’re not a fucking hero.
The bitterness of the voice inside her head surprised her, but it had a point. She thought back to a few months ago, to Angel leaving. It was the same thing. Disguising selfishness as concern for the person you “loved.”
Yeah, she knew it well.
but now I’m wishing
for my best impression
of my best Angie
Dickinson
She
finally spoke again, and her own voice, on the edge of tears, enraged her.
“Well, how long?”
The sound of her voice made his own ragged, stranded. “I don’t know.” The sound practically disappeared into the thick air, absorbing all their pain like water. He had a feeling that if he returned later, the smell and feel of their pain would still remain, hanging in the air like perfume.
She looked up at him, cursing him for hurting her like this. Cursing her own weakness. “Oz…don’t you love me?”
He flinched again. She had to ask? My fault my fault my fault. She shouldn’t have to ask, but she did.
The concept of not loving her; of not being completely in love with this strong, beautiful woman had never even occurred to him. Even before they’d ever met, he could feel her in his heart, sense her, waiting for the day they would meet. Waiting for the day he would love her.
He looked at her seriously, grabbing his bag, lifting the strap over her shoulder. “My whole life, I’ve never loved anything else.”
Tears erupted from her eyes, tiny volcanoes. His own usually stoic face collapsed, and he pulled her close to him, resting his forehead on hers.
“Oz…” Her voice, whispering his name, ripped through him. He braced himself, memorized every instant of this: her hair, her wet eyes, her scent…her soft voice, cutting sweetly through his defenses, hitting his spine. Never again. He corrected himself. Potentially, never again.
She glanced at his face, his closed eyes. Emotion covered it like a mask, foreign to him. He was so…beautiful. Even now.
Especially now.
but now I’ve got to
worry
cause boy you still
look pretty
when you’re putting
the damage on
He pulled her forehead against his lips, kissed her softly, memorizing the feel of her skin. His hands cradled her face. Then he pulled away from her, pulled his bag higher up on his shoulder, and disappeared.
She collapsed. She never knew…she never knew that tears could come from so deep, that they could be wrenched from your heart and your soul to wet your face, your pretty eyes.
Her tears soaked into the mattress.
* * *
And she was still here. She was still fucking here. It was like she was stuck in limbo, in purgatory. As though she was the one who had sinned.
But it was like…she was caught between extremes. Dark and light. Love and hate. Alive and dead.
That one scared her the most. She was still so blank, a white canvas. On other days, she was filled with color. Red and black and gold and blue…
(He says he reckons
I’m a watercolor stain…)
She turned up the radio. Yeah, Tori was helping. She played it low enough that Devon and the guys couldn’t hear. Couldn’t come in to offer concern and wonder why she was there. To tell Oz that she was there.
But she just felt so…damaged. Broken. She was reminded of a vase her mother used to have. She’d dropped it, and it shattered into a thousand pieces. So much of it was in tiny shards, like sand, that it couldn’t be pieced back together.
That was how she felt. Sand. Slipping through her fingers. That was what her life was now.
If this was even life. Purgatory.
Whatever. Fuck it. Didn’t matter anyway. Because all this was just temporary, but goddamn she felt so….just so angry at him, for leaving, for turning it around on her. (“I know. I remember.” Believe me, you still can’t understand.) Whatever she done to him was nothing compared to what he’d done to her.
don’t make me scratch
on you door
I never left you
for a Banjo
I only just turned
around for a poodle
and a corvette
But she didn’t want to blame, she didn’t want to play “Who did something worse.” That got old after about a month. Especially when you were playing it alone.
Because, if he was here, at least then she’d have someone to blame. She’d have somewhere to put all of this, all of this pain and rage. A place to channel it.
She wanted to hurt him.
But she got the feeling that, maybe, he was hurting himself with his own guilt more than anyone else ever could. It was just his nature. Or, it had been, before…everything. But it was her nature, as a human, to want to fucking rip apart the person who had caused her so much pain.
She wondered if Buffy had felt this way.
Buffy. That brought a fresh wave of bitterness. Buffy was so caught up in her new life, in her happiness, in everything that was going on with Riley that she barely even noticed Willow anymore. And even when Riley hadn’t been around, as a potential love interest anyway, Buffy couldn’t spare a moment to listen to her. Like Buffy’s pain was so much more real, more deserving of attention or something.
and my best impression
of my best Angie
Dickinson
She knew that was…harsh. Buffy had been through a lot, and Buffy had needed to talk or she’d crack open wide…like she was cracking. But it was just so fucking hypocritical. She’d been there for Buffy, through Angel, through Parker, and now through Riley and whatever was happening there. And Buffy couldn’t even sit still and listen to her cry, make her feel like a person again?
She heard a noise in the hall and turned to radio down more. She didn’t need Devon or one of the guys walking in on her and telling Oz over the phone that she was still crying inside of his room at night. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
But it was just…it was like she could feel him. In there, with her. She tried to ignore it, but even with all his things gone, his presence lingered in the air. In the darkness, there, with her. She didn’t want to leave, and go home to her dorm to be alone, since Buffy was out with Riley. Her dorm room held no imprint of him, it didn’t have his scent; it didn’t have a thousand memories of Oz smiling and laughing and telling her that he loved her. All she wanted to do was lie there and think about him. She didn’t want to move, or breathe, or think.
All she wanted was to feel again.
it’s just your ghost
passing through
I said
I’m trying not to move
it’s just your ghost
passing through
it’s just your ghost
passing through
She sighed, shivered. Got up off the bed. Oz wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming back, and she didn’t know why she still held that tiny flame of love and hope in her heart for him.
He wasn’t coming back.
She had gotten up off the stripped bed, turned off the radio and unplugged it, grabbing it by the cord. She heard the door open and turned around, preparing to curse like hell if it was Devon.
It was Oz.
The radio crashed to the ground and she gasped. “Oz…” Her own voice was foreign to her ears. To his credit, Oz looked as shocked as she did. She regained her senses, trying to steel her heart against him. Obviously he wasn’t here to stay. No bags. “What are you doing here?”
His own voice was low, painful. “I could ask you the sa—”
“Well, I’m not the one who left town all of a sudden, then returned just as suddenly, so maybe you’d better answer that question.” She sounded angry. Good. Good. She tried not to cry. Then feeling immediately bad, she picked up her radio. “Besides, I was just leaving.”
Oz walked a little more in, and she backed away. He looked…different. Already. His walk was much more graceful, almost as if he was stalking something. For a second she felt like prey.
He moved to the closet, pulled it open, revealing a guitar case that had evidently been left behind. “Sweet J,” he said quietly. “Accidentally left it behind. I asked Devon to send it to me, but he got pissed. Refused. Said I should come get it myself. So I did.” He was even more laconic than usually, and she could distinctly feel her heart beating in her chest. He just seemed so much more…animal. More than he used to be. He nodded in her general direction. “Is that broken?”
She looked down at the radio in her hands and sighed. Damn. “Yeah. Apparently. So I will just go now. To fix it.” The awkwardness in the room, the way she didn’t know how to leave…she was reminded of their conversation at the school, the day after their date. (“I had fun last night.” “Oh. My time was also. Of the. Good.”) She tried to brush past him and he grabbed her arm softly.
“Wait. Maybe I can fix it.” He actually seemed concerned over the damned radio, and she felt a wave of anger sweep over her. She pulled away from him.
“No thanks. Its dead. I’ll get a new one.”
He nodded.
and now
I’m quite sure
there’s a light in
your platoon
I never seen a light
move
like yours
can do to me
In the doorway, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She turned around, her shattered radio in her hands. “Oz…what happened? Why did you leave…why are you back…” She trailed off. She knew all of this. She just needed to hear it. Finality. Closure. From him.
He turned back towards her, and the light reflected in his eyes. Pain. “I…I had to.”
“No. no, you didn’t.” Her voice was low and...she wanted to say, bitter? But that wasn’t exactly it. “You wanted to. You didn’t have to do anything.”
He lowered his head. “Yeah, I know that,” he said quietly. She nodded again. “But baby…” She closed her name at the pet name. “I just can’t. Be here. I shouldn’t be anywhere, but I’m not going to do anything…” He trailed off again, and she looked at him, alarmed. “If all this made me learn anything, its that I don’t deserve you. And that…I’m not human. And I’m not an animal. I’m something in between. And until I get rid of one of those sides…I can’t.”
She sniffed, trying to hold back. Trying to hold back the tears, and the anger, and all the love she still felt for him. “Why can’t you come back?”
“I am back.”
She shook her head, frustrated. “No, you’re not. You’re getting something you left behind. Then you’re going to leave again. Why can’t you come back?”
He shook his head, and tried to force back his own tears. “I don’t know. There are werewolves out there who are perfectly happy with society. With human women. I’ve seen. They’re…normal. Like I want to be. But me…I can’t reconcile wolf and man. Even still.”
“You fight it too hard,” she said quietly, and he nodded his agreement.
“Yeah. Which is why I can’t be here with you. I’d bite you. Or kill you.” His voice broke on ‘kill.’ “Or something worse. So I can’t be with you.”
Oh god. She shut her eyes tightly, leaning on the doorway for support. Denying the tears that threatened to run down her face. “I figured.” He came close to her, to take her in his arms, but she held out a hand, keeping him away. “No, don’t. Its too hard already. I can’t touch you. I went through all this already.” She wiped a tear that was running down the bridge of her nose. “I have to go.”
I’ve got a ticket to
your late show
He nodded, but as she turned to leave, he called her back. “Will?”
She turned around, peering through the doorway. “Yeah, Oz?”
Whatever he was going to say…obviously it hurt him, cut him deep down to his soul. Cut him. He even said it slowly, painfully, as though each word was like a razor on his tongue. “Find someone. Someone to love, someone who can love you. Someone who deserves you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “I know that no one exists who deserves you, but…try.”
She tried to say something, but her voice was forlorn. Childlike. “Oz.”
He wiped tears from his own cheeks. “I can’t be with you. Not til I’m…whole. And I don’t know when that will be. So find someone to be with. Be happy. And I promise, if I find you and you’re happy, I won’t ruin that for you. I’ll back away so that it won’t hurt you; you’ll never even see me.”
She wanted to ask him not to do that, to turn back to her at the slightest opportunity, but she knew that if she said that, she would be waiting around on him til the day she died. She nodded softly. “Goodbye, Oz.”
“Goodbye, Willow.” Softly: “I love you.”
She stopped, her back arching as if something had burned her. Something had. But still, she just gathered up her strength and walked away, the image of his face held in her mind.
Even now…he was so much hers. He was so fucking pretty.
you sure are pretty
when you’re putting
the damage on
yes
when you’re putting
the damage on
you’re just so pretty
when you’re putting
the damage on
THE END
