Title: Compliments of a Discman 1/1
Author: Danielle
E-mail: PrincessCashew@hotmail.com
Rating: R, but really only for language
Spoilers: Up to Seeing Red
Summary: Buffy has to think about herself.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, and whoever has rights to these people in court. Do not sue me, I'm poor anyway. The song is by Vanessa Carlton called Rinse off her debut album. I have no permission for this either.
Distribution: Whoever wants it can have it, just e-mail me first so I can come and visit.
Notes: First attempt at a song-fic, this might be really bad.

Confusion is the only thing I feel I can confidently say I understand. Contradictions and oxymorons. The two furthest extremes meshed together in a nice little package and tied with a bow. I can't remember the last time things made sense, when it all came together.

Maybe that's just growing up, I couldn't tell you. Mostly because I seem to be doing such a shitty job of it.

I used to know what I wanted. Why it was something to be wanted. Now I'm not really sure.

All the negatives are there, first things to pop into my head, first things people point out to me upon conversation. But I don't care about those things. I want those things.

Wasn't so bad before, I don't think. Stupid song.

**She'd do anything to sparkle in his eye. She would suffer she would fight and compromise. She's been wishing on the stars that shine so bright. For answers to questions that will haunt her tonight**

Did it stop? Was that what that night on the linoleum was, the stop sign? Did I finally prove to him that I could never love him?

It's stupid really, and fucked up, because I can't even prove it to myself anymore. I want him to look at me like that night I first came back, like everything else went away and he was whole again. All of that movie magic.

I think about it a lot now, staring at his duster. What would I do to get him back, and even if I do all that, does it mean a god damn thing. I cry on the nights I realize it probably doesn't. But what the hell, I cry on the nights I realize it probably does too.

**She must rinse this all away. She can't hold him this way. She must rinse this all away. She can't love him this way.**

I spend a lot of time in the shower now, I know it's really stupid, but I feel this need to. This was where it happened. This is where I'm closest to him. This is where I realize that I have to stop hurting him.

**How she'd be soothed how she'd be saved if he could see, She needs to be held in his arms to be free**

I don't think there's an easy way to tell him how I feel now. "Hey, guess what, you know all this time that I was just leading you on and crushing your heart, well I've kind of reconsidered, so what do you say? Want to just forget the whole thing?" I can see that going over real well.

Once it would be out though, I wouldn't hurt like this anymore. He'd understand.

I know now that I need him, and not in the way I did before. This isn't an I-want-him-to-take-care-of-me kind of thing and it's not a please-pleasure- me-constantly kind of needing either. It's the kind of need that if it's not there I could survive, cause still breathing, but that I really wouldn't want to.

I don't know how to say that either.

**But everything happens for reasons that she will never understand. 'Til she knows that the heart of a woman will never be found in the arms of a man.**

My mom used to say that whatever is meant to be will be, and there's nothing you can do to change that. That we learn from every mistake that we make too.

It doesn't make me feel like good it used to, probably because I've taken a negative spin on it just like everything else.

If whatever is supposed to happen will, that means that there are plenty of awful things that are meant to be, and there's no way you can stop it from happening. You just have to deal with it. Or that to have knowledge we have to fail. There have to be those things you can't succeed in.

Made my errors, too many. Guess everyone has too many. I really doubt there are people out there saying they wish they'd fucked up more in their life. I've learned from them too; stuff I really wish had just been ingrained at birth. People mess up, and they hurt and they fight and they get lost sometimes. But they also love and they talk and someone else is there to find them.

It's kinda funny how long I've looked for normal and how I keep coming back to the para. Guess it's just easier for me to fit in that way. I've only loved the ones in the dark, the demons, the ones who at one point didn't have a soul.

He was right when he said I need a little monster in my man. Can't seem to find myself in anyone else.

**She must rinse this all away. She can't hold anybody this way. She must rinse this all away. She can't love him**

I always feel kind of vulnerable in the shower, like everyone can see that I'm not clean by being there. They know, I know they all do, but no one mentions in when I just sit in here and let the water run.

It's not just him I think about in here. It's all those boys, those ones I never took my chance with, those ones I did. When I think about those few I let get close I think about how battered we were at the end, how angry and betrayed and hateful and how none of it seemed fair and that I'd swear not to let it happen again. Maybe it's me; maybe it's everyone. Doesn't really matter. I really have to keep my promise this time.

**And as she runs away she fears she won't be followed. What could be worse than leaving something behind? And as the depth of ocean slowly becomes shallow, It's loneliness she finds. If only he was mine.**

All those times I left him after a night's sexcapades were over, I worried that it would be the last time. That it wasn't worth putting up with Buffy the Icebitch anymore. I never really wanted to leave; it just seemed like I didn't have a choice. As long as I kept being the one to walk away I wouldn't be the one left in the dust. I was calling the shots.

Which is bullshit, cause if he decided he wanted the control, it was his. He was the one being chased, not me. Given up on me ever slowing down I guess.

He became too many things in my life, my confidant, my lover, my sister's babysitter for christ sakes. And every time I walked out, I was abandoning that, losing that security I had for a few minutes.

The security's gone for good now, Buffy's all alone, what else is new?

I wish I hadn't stopped him for one thing.

**She must rinse him. She must rinse him. She can't rinse him. She can rinse him. She can't, she won't, she must rinse him. She can't, she won't, she must rinse him.**

Stupid thoughts like that are the ones that make me feel soiled, all corrupted and weak. I shouldn't want to be taken advantage of, shouldn't have dreams where I pull him in rather than push him off, where I get off on it.

The more I try to forget, to say I was right for doing what I did, the more it sticks with me and the more I decide I don't want to try anymore.

There's my old friend indecision.

**She must rinse this all away. She can't hold him this way. She must rinse this all away. She can't love him this way.**

The hot water's almost done, that's usually my cue. The tears are still warm though, so who knows, might give it a little more time.

I can't believe I bought Dawn this fucking CD.

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