First fanfic please play nice.
I don't own any characters in the Buffyverse for entertainment purposes only. I mostly enjoy reading fanfic. I'd like to be a beta reader but to do so I must publish work.
Please review and constructive criticism is welcome. Just know that I cry at the drop a hat. ;-)
A/U(ish):This takes place after series ends and pretending the comics don't exist.
Prologue
It's three in the morning and Buffy is lying awake again. This is the third night in a row where she has woken up in a cold sweat screaming, "I'M COOKIES!"
She lay there silently cursing the fact that she yelled out in her sleep again. She cringed at thinking someone might have heard her. She grew more annoyed as she realized she had been thrust awake by the same stupid dream and was now forced to try and get back to sleep while it played fresh in her mind.
It was the same each night. She would open the front door (to her now obliterated) house in Sunnydale and she would walk into her living room. It would seem completely normal but then she would smell hot cocoa.
Realizing she was actually quite cold, she would walk eagerly to the kitchen. Each time she reached the kitchen, what she saw would make her get the feeling that she had just been kicked in the stomach. Sitting at her table would be her mother and Spike laughing, chatting and enjoying their cocoa.
Joyce would look up and smile and Spike would say, "Hullo pet." Each night Buffy was able to speak to her mother, saying the same thing each time, "I love you so much and I miss you." But every time she went to open her mouth to tell Spike anything Angel would come bursting through the kitchen's back door. Joyce would vanish from the table and "SPIKE!" would bellow throughout the kitchen. Angel would grab Spike by the collar and say, "You shouldn't be here. She said she needed time. Besides we have other things to take care of. Things that while aren't as beautiful, are more important than Buffy right now."
Spike would swing his hand at Angel and grumble, "Soddin' hands off me, Forehead." Then he would turn to look at her with those blue eyes and say, "I'll always be with you love." And every time she would run to grab him but they would always disappear before she could reach them. Then she would be left standing in the now abandoned kitchen. She stands there frozen. The only thing she is ever able to do is whisper, "I'm cookies." Then in an instant she would be racing towards the front door frantically yelling, "No! Wait! I'm cookies!"