Wish she was here…

You say you don't love her, but I see it in your eyes you want her. I know that you need her. I can tell by the look on your face when you see her that you still care. I know somewhere in your heart you wish she was there.

I can see it in your eyes how much you long for her perfect touch. Her faultless beauty. It's in your every move, enough to make me cringe. Enough to make me shout out with rage at you to forget her. She dead! Gone! Bury it! She won't be coming back, but still you swoon over her like the boy in his first crush. Was she? Was she the woman who taught you love first? Taught you passion? Taught you romance?

I would love to teach you those… those and so much more, but I am just the pebble in your shoe. The annoying, lingering phantom that won't go away, even if you yell I am always there. Always… I don't want to leave… This is my home… and whether you like it or not… This crew has become my family… and I try to be more… tolerable…

But, you push away with harsh comments. They sting, but you don't know it. You would never admit that you hurt me. I would never admit that you did. So quietly I sulk around here acting like you don't faze me. Yet, you do…

From your clouded eyes, two color different colors. One emotionless and cold, the other alive and such a warm russet, dare I say soft chocolate? You have humor, buried and brought out around the closest of friends. I see more of your scathing remarks than your humor, but that's my own fault.

I settled down on the couch across from you. Your look so subtle sprawled out on the chair, eyes closed. So fragile, though I know you would hate to hear me say it. His manly pride would get in the way.

I flicked her wrist, tossing my raven hair out of my eyes. "Spike…?" I drawled. "Are you okay?" It hadn't been that long since we discovered you in a random hospital. You still hadn't gotten over her death and sometimes I think that you had wanted to die in the fight against Vicious. Then there would be no aftermath. No thinking of how you could have saved her, but didn't…

Spike titled his head slightly towards me, "I'm fine." His clipped tone made me quiet down. He looked so angry and yet… depressed.

"Spike," I whispered his name. "You'll be okay." I tried to comfort him.

His head whipped around again. "I don't need your pity or your comfort! I told you I was fine! Now why don't you leave me the hell alone!"

I sighed, standing. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I whispered. "It's okay. We're here for you." I left the room before he had time to respond with an angry comeback or a snappy retort. And If he did, I sure didn't hear it.

~

He leaned against the headboard of his bed, blowing smoke rings into the air, nonchalantly. Snuffing out the remainder of the cigarette, he fumbled in his drawer for another one. Pulling out the cigarette pack, he flipped it open and put one to his lips. Something made him pause, eyes widen.

I watched him from the hallway; as he pulled what look like a piece of paper from the back. The box fell to the bed, forgotten. I could faintly make out black handwriting, scrawled on the back. He flipped it around, reading the print. His mouth fell open and the cigarette too, fell to the bed.

On the flipped side was a picture of a woman. I couldn't tell who is was, but I figured it was her. With all that blonde hair and black attire, I knew it was. His face filled with emotions he didn't let show when he knew someone was watching.

I sighed turning away from him. I felt like I was invading personal privacy. I would hate for him to watch me… but then what reason would he ever have to watch me. I'm just the extra man on board, who helps every now and then and was good to relieve stress through verbal sparring.

And as I walked away… even though I had liked him forever… God, how I wished she was here…

Note: I don't own CB, nor do I own the quote at the beginning. If you know who does, tell me I will gladly give them credit.