Title: Moving In
Prompt:Fantasy: Ghosts
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings:Character Death, Violence
Summary:It's hard to be a skeptic when you're dead.
She had been there for years, never changing, never moving. The house was her realm, and it was where she had been ever since her death. A wry smile curved her lip. She had never believe in Ghosts, but she supposed you had to see it to believe it.
She had died when she was 22, fresh out of College and off to live a life in some small one horse town called Sunnydale. She'd gotten a good deal on a good house, and moved in without any problems. She was on her own, ready for whatever life threw at her.
Except a robbery, that is. She'd barely lived there a week before some joker decided that she would be an east target and had tried to steal her still-packed belongings. She'd woken up and beaten the shit out of him, but he pulled a gun and bam! Brain matter everywhere. It had been so long that she didn't even remember her own name some times.
But today was different. Someone was moving in. She knew because the energies that surrounded her were alive with life and scattered everywhere. She was surprisingly lucid from all the activity and for once remembered who she was.
She was Buffy.
She smiled and prepared to watch as the new homeowner began to unpack.
.
Spike was tired – he'd been unpacking his belongings all day, and he was ready to pass out from exhaustion. However he was glad to be out of LA. He had been to one too many book signings for his likings and it was time he settle down and rest for a few months before finishing up his newest novel. He'd gotten a good deal on this house, and it had this energy that just seemed to call to him – almost like it was full of stories for him to tell.
He frowned. Bloody hell, he'd been hanging out with Rupert too much – he was startin' to sound like him now.
He placed his last book on his bookshelf and visibly relaxed. It was time for sleep. Well, either that or dinner. He wasn't too sure – but one thing he was sure off was he was getting out of these clothes and pulling on some sweat pants.
He stretched, popping his back before heading upstairs to his room. When he reached to top of the stairs he froze and frowned into the hallway before shrugging it off. He could have sworn that he'd seen someone standing in the doorway to the bathroom.
He almost laughed at himself – clearly he'd been spending too much time writing novels and out of the real world.
He didn't take too much time changing clothes as his stomach started to growl impatiently. He left his room and headed down stairs, tugging his shirt down only to freeze three steps from the bottom.
There, standing in the middle of the living room, was a girl. For a moment he thought he was getting robbed, but then he realized that she was missing from the waist down, and he knew that something really weird was going on.
She turned slowly and her large hazel eyes blinked in surprise.
And then she was gone.