DISCLAIMER: Nope, not mine.
TIMELINE: Post B/R Breakup and Angel "firing" mode :-)
SPOILERS: Nothing much.
DISTRIBUTION: http://www.yum.nu/feel /// ask and you will recieve
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was my small effort to try and understand Poddie. Thus, the title has kind of a double meaning.
SUMMARY: Buffy gets wasted after the B/R split, and comes to some startling conclusions about her state of mind, and her life in general.
FEEDBACK: If you read it, EMAIL ME!!! LOL. Please?? SealedNFate@aol.com
RATING: PG-13
Note: Starts out kind of bad for B/A ... but stay with it *grin*. And no emails about it not being "fluffy" enough, hehe :P

"Every time. Every time."

Buffy Summers watched the blue hues of the couch stretch and fall against her vision. The increases formulated their own pattern ... churning and spitting into one another.

She burst into laughter.

"Exactly how much did you drink?" A nameless blob was cuddling next to her, mixing his side into her scantily clad number.

More laughing.

"My business is ... my ... my business." She pushed her Corona against an oval vase, letting five moments of energy exist in the dancing shadows of the party. "Parties are ... do you think parties are fun?"

The blob was hushed ... taking away the couch's fuse, replacing it with his own deep black and white's. He was whispering now.

"You know ... we can go upstairs."

"Shh ..." she placed the tip of her finger squarely to his John Doe lips, frowning slightly, "No ... no. No. You have to answer my question."

"If I answer your question, you gonna give me some play?"

"Why are you not in the happy ... happy part?"

"Huh?"

"What are you looking for in that bedroom thingie?"

"Mmm. You," Blob was starting to get rather annoying, pushing up against her skin, trying to rent an alarm clock's time before the ring.

"No. Why ... um. What? Oh yeah ... why do you go up and sleep with ... with the girls?"

"Because ... I just do," he obviously wasn't taking her philosophical ponderings seriously.

"Psst. I'm looking for the great big ... blah."

"Great Big ... Blag?"

"You know ... the ... the stuff. I need it. I ... I don't know who I am. Fred, who am I?"

"My name is TJ."

"Hi TJ, I'm ... I'm Buffy." she had to cackle at herself, "Once I had this dream, where, where I was flying and humming in this desert, and no one else could hear me or touch me or kill me."

It'd all come out so mumbled ... like a child. But it started to smack her.

The warning point had been breached. She let her eyes narrow to a defining point ... burning square into a peculiar patch of woodwork below her.

"It's like a drug, you know. I have a man ... and, um ... he ah ... he cares about me, you see," her eyes began to rim with something wet and hard, "And he touches me and ... and he whispers into my ... my ear. And ... he pretends ... we have make-believe."

She lost track of her layer of emotions. Where was she going with this?

She could feel the sobs coming on. Not dulled ... but that one instant of dysfunctional and utter depression ... the hysteria that possesses your soul in the deepest regions it can touch.

And this ... this blob, he was touching her skin. Was he trying to hug her? *Kiss* her?

"No." she whispered.

It got more forceful ... began to climb upwards until the fire was brimming exuberantly throughout her entire body. Thumping ... raging.

"Get the hell off me!", she pushed him away with a tap, easily leaking away from his body, and his site.

She didn't remember where her feet had brought her next. But there was the comforter ... the bed. She was alone in it ... clinging onto the lonesome pillow with an odd feeling. It was nightfall. She'd gotten to her bed all by herself.

And then came the sleep.

"Do you remember me?"

Buffy was wearing satin ... a material wrapping glamorously around her curves and into her expression. Her skin felt soft, clean. Pure, somehow.

A force of energy stood before her ... one far too comforting to recognize.

"Angel, I'm sinking out here," she motioned to her body, to the portions of her limbs that beat cold blood.

Her lover smirked, a tentative smile that copyrighted into her presence, "Tell you the truth ... I'm not doing so good myself."

"I lost it out there." She let the curls of her hair dip against her bare shoulders, covering them with a blanket instantly. They smelled familiar.

They smelled like Angel.

Everything seemed to haze ... to darken. The bright and torturous colors of play began to sink into something so familiar ... so warm. It was all him, every breath and every nuance. She could taste the air's texture, allowing it to flow into her entire body. She needed more. The blanket kept growing, enveloping more and more of her body.

"Angel ..."

She whispered his name delicately ... pleading ... like a lost puppy calling, crying to be cuddled.

His arms began to flex, move in a fluent motion, and clasp into one around her body. The smooth skin of his neck huddled into her stance, hugging her in the most tender manner known to man.

"Everything's going to be better now," he sounded hoarse, as if a tear was forcably holding back against his eyelids, "It'll all be different in the morning."

She curled deeper into him, feeling more protected than she ever had in her life, "How"? her voice whined in a peep. So small ... so delicate.

"Because I love you. That's all that matters."

She was crying now, "But all that I've done ... something tells me it wasn't right. Like I ... I don't know. Screwed up."

"His lips brushed against the silky crown of her petite head, exhaling uneeded breath into her atmosphere, "Wipe it all away. There's a part of you ... right here that can never ever die. It's immortal."

She began to awaken, the colors of the world smoothing into a warm brand of colors, one soothing to both sight and touch.

"Stay with me?" she whispered into her mind.

"I never left."

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