CrazyEvilDru
DISCLAIMER : I do not own these characters.
I’ve grown accustom to feeling cool arms around me when I wake up. And I’ve grown accustom to seeing the darkness of the crypt which is completely fitting because I don’t want to remember that I find solace and comfort in a demon that I loathe. And I don’t want to open my eyes and see him sleeping happily next to me. I don’t wanna open my eyes and see his staring back at me. I want to see dark because that’s where I belong, and that’s what I feel.
I slowly slink out of bed. “Buffy?” His voice cracks the darkness and pulls my eyes towards his and I see him, staring back at me. Love in his eyes. Never pity, or concern. Only love. He takes my hand and tries to pull me back to him. “Stay. Just this once, stay.” He pleads with me, his eyes begging me for something I can’t give.
“I can’t.” I whisper and pull my hand away, and he lets me go.
I grab my jacket and open the door quietly while he remains still in his bed downstairs. I go to the house and shower before heading off to the Magic Shop before class. “Morning.” I say as I walk in. I think that’s the first time I’ve said anything when I walk in. Hmm…
“Morning, Buffy.” Willow says. She never says good morning anymore, because she knows none of them are good.
“Where’s Tara?” I ask, noticing the lack of girlfriend with her.
“Library. She’s got a research paper to work on.”
“What are you doing?” I ask half-interested, as I walk over the table where she’s shuffling some books around.
“Helping Giles catalogue a few new books for our collection. The Council sent him some new research they’ve collected.” She explains.
“Good. I’ve got class.” I say before heading out.
“Buffy?” She asks as I reach the door.
“Yeah?”
“We were thinking of Bronzing it tonight. Do you wanna com-”
“No.” I cut her off and leave. After class I head to his crypt and open the door. He’s sitting on a tombstone, Indian style, staring at the door when I walk in.
“Do you know that every day you walk through that door eight hours after leaving in the morning?”
“So?”
“Why?” He asks. This wasn’t part of the deal. He wasn’t supposed to ask questions.
“Giles got some new books.” I say as I start to take my sweater off. It’s always so hot in here, though I don’t know why; maybe it’s just my body temperature in here.
“Don’t change the subject. Why do you sneak in here every night and then pretend that it doesn’t matter?”
I put my sweater back on. “I c-”
“You can’t. But *will* you?”
I turn and grab the door, but he throws himself against it and blocks my way. I don’t look at him. “Move.” I order.
“I’m not your puppet, Slayer, as much as you’d like to believe that.”
“MOVE.” I say louder.
“I can’t pretend that you don’t come here every night and sleep in my arms. I can’t pretend that I don’t know what you feel like around me. I can’t pretend that I don’t wanna taste you, or drink from you when you come. I can’t pretend that your hair doesn’t feel silky and smell of coconut. I can’t pretend that I don’t hear your pain. I won’t.”
“Move.” I say. “I can’t.”
He puts a hand to my chin and makes me look at him. “You *have* to.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Then don’t come back.” He says.
“Fine.” I say before throwing him across the room. He hits the wall and slumps to the floor. Good. I leave.
I go back to the house hungry. And of course we don’t have an- *we*… we aren’t *we* anymore. We’re I. *I* don’t have anything in the house to eat. *I* have to go shopping. *I* have to pick what *I* want to eat. *I* need to carry the bags. *I* have to put them away. *I* have to make *myself* something to eat.
I grab some cash from the jar on the counter. I don’t know who has been coming in, but every day I open it and there’s fifty more in it. I guess either Giles or Xander comes in and puts some money in there for me. I *should* thank them. But unfortunately, I don’t care that much.
I walk into the store and what do I see? Choices. Choices that Mom used to make daily. Krispies or Corn Chex? Golden Delicious or Empire? Scott or store brand? Pantene or Herbal Essence? All choices Mom made so easily. Choices Mom didn’t even think about. I can’t do this. I don’t know which to choose. I don’t know whether a nine-ounce box is cheaper than a twelve. I don’t know if two ninety-nine is a good price for a bag of apples. I don’t know if store brand is as good as Scott or Charmin. I don’t know which shampoo smells like coconut. Mom did. And Mom is gone. I turn around quickly and run back to the house.
But it’s just empty there. And it’s getting dark and food isn’t important anymore. Must patrol. Food will come later. Choices can be made tomorrow or by someone else, not me. Not Mom. I walk the streets praying for a demon but there are none. I turn towards the Bronze reluctantly because I *know* there is always a vampire there hunting. And I need to end his life before I end mine.
I walk in and Willow and Xander spot me. They motion for me and I walk over to them. “I’m just patrolling.” I say. I can see the disappointment on their faces. I don’t *want* them to be sad. So I sigh and pull up a stool.
“Everything okay, Buffy?” Willow asks me, probably noticing my red eyes.
And I want to say something mean. I want to say, ‘no. My family is dead.’ But I don’t. She doesn’t deserve that. “I tried to go shopping today.” I say. But they don’t understand why that hurts me so much.
None except for Tara who stands up and whispers in my ear “dance with me.” I nod and she leads me out to the dance floor. She holds me at a reasonably close distance and starts swaying with the soft music. It feels nice, being held, rocking like Mommy and I used to, so I pull her closer to me.
“My mother used to the do all the grocery shopping.” She says. “And when she died, my dad worked and couldn’t stop. My brother didn’t know what to buy or where to buy it, so I had to do it.”
Her words soothe me and I start crying again, into her shoulder. She just rubs my head and continues talking. “I remember the first time I went, I couldn’t remember what brands she used to buy. I’d go with her all the time to the store, but I couldn’t remember. I started picking out some fruit but I didn’t know how to tell if something was ripe or not. My mom always knew. I remember standing in front of the grapefruits crying because I didn’t know which was good and which wasn’t.”
“I ran out. I can’t do it.”
“Yes you can, Buffy.” She says, pulling away from me to look at me. “You can, Buffy. You’re strong, much more than just physically, Buffy. I can see. I could see the first time I saw you, that you’re strong. You *have* to believe that. You can do it. But maybe you just need a little help. Maybe you should stop pretending that you don’t need help, and ask us. Willow, Xander, Mr. Giles, they all want to help you. We’re worried about you.”
“I know.” I whisper. “I just don’t know how to feel what I feel. I’ve never felt it before.”
“Maybe we can help with that too.” I hug her and through the tears, I see him standing near the door looking at me.
I pull away from her and she smiles before returning to Willow. I walk over to him. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Bit of a headache.” I smile.
“I’ve gotta go shopping. Wanna come?”
“Sure.” He shrugs and I dust the vamp that he’s holding by the neck.
We walk into the store and he helps me grab a cart. It seems less scary with him next to me. “I don’t know where to start, Spike.” I whisper to him.
“At the beginning, Luv. Start from the beginning.” He kisses me quick on the cheek, which catches me by surprise. He then winks and walks in front of the cart. He starts pulling it and I follow behind. We get to the fruit and I see the grapefruits. Grapefruit. Poor Tara. Mom never bought grapefruits; she didn’t like them.
“I don’t know what to buy.” I say.
He turns around and looks directly into my eyes. I think that’s the first time he’s done that, or the first time since I’ve really let him. “You need some apples. They’ll help you keep up your strength.”
He turns and starts picking them up and throwing them around. I never knew he knew how to juggle. I walk over to him and put my arm around his. He picks one up, “Feel this.” I take it and feel it. “Feel how it’s kinda hard, but a little squishy too?” I nod. “That’s what you want. If it’s too hard, it’s not ripe. You wanna be able to leave a little thumb mark on it, but not break the skin. Now you pick a couple out.”
I reach over and do the thumb test. We put three in a bag and he places them in the cart. “And you need oranges cause they’ll give you vitamin C which will help you stay healthy.”
“And why do you want a strong and healthy slayer?”
“Cause I’m a big wanker. Now sod off.” I can’t help but laugh a little and he smiles. His smile is nice, warm. His eyes seem to twinkle a little as well. I never saw that before. I guess there’s a lot I didn’t see about him. We pick out a bunch of fruit and vegetables. He helps me pick a brand of bread, and we get some cereal and milk.
“I need meat too.” I suggest. We head over to the meat counter and there are too many choices. “What’s the difference between 85% lean and 90%?” I ask Spike.
He shrugs. “Dunno. Just price I think, not too much of a difference in the product, just a little less fat content.”
I ring the bell and the meat cutter comes out. “Can I help you?” He asks.
“Yes, I need some ground beef.”
“How many pounds?” He asks.
“Three.” Spike tells him. “You can freeze some.” He tells me.
The worker goes about weighing out the meat. “This might sound a little weird, but is there any way I can get blood?” I ask him. He stops cutting and looks at me. I smile. He looks over at Spike and then to the ceiling for a second. “My friend here got a couple bloodhounds and he wants to start training them. He’s a hunter.” I lie.
The man looks at us again, then to the ceiling. “Sure, for the dogs.”
He goes in back and I turn and look towards where he was looking. There’s a mirror on the ceiling and Spike isn’t in it.
The man returns with two containers of blood. He puts them in a brown bag and puts a paid sticker on it. “They won’t ask questions in the front.” He says.
“Thank you.” I say.
“You *do* know that he’s a-”
“Yes.” I say. “Thank you.”
“It’s pig. Fresh this morning.” He packages up the meat for me and we leave.
“Nice fella.” Spike says as we head towards the front.
We’re home in ten minutes, thanks to Spike’s car. He helps me carry in the bags and we put the groceries away. Then I sit at the table and watch him as he starts cutting veggies for a salad.
He gnaws on some wheatibix while he makes me a hamburger. And I guess I missed all this. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. Maybe I was blind.
~El Fin de Sight~