Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of any of Mr. Whedon's ingenious
characters, I just find them bloody inspiring for fiction writing.
Fantastic reading all!
Uneasy Normality
Cautious eyes scanned about her surroundings as she walked the lonely road back to her apartment. The absence of anything remotely dangerous within her line of sight was comforting, however she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following her. And despite how familiar she was with the sensation, she was uneased by it. Turning to face forward once again, she continued down the narrow European road, tightening her scarf to ward off the cold. Thought it had been nearly four years, they had been immensely difficult, to use a euphemism. The defeat of the First had been permanent, and though the hellmouth in Cleveland was still active, no more than five strange occurrences happened every year so things were relatively easy to control. Faith and Principal Wood were in charge there, and holding the fort down quite well, so there was very little need for her to even check in with them. And within a matter of days, Buffy Summers, once most important 'Chosen One,' had found herself inactive and fairly useless. She and Dawn had moved to Prague as soon as funds were secured and housing was found. The apartment was small, but quaint and quite lived in, and there was a gorgeous view of the city from every window. Dawn had insisted on that, claiming that the awe-inspiring views would prove excellent muses for her painting.
That was one of the many changes that had happened since their move. Dawn was now fluent in Czech, and attending a prestigious art academy in the city with offers to work at many of the major art museums in the Czech Republic, Germany and Austria. The college life fit her well, and she had blossomed into a vibrant young twenty-something. And while Buffy envied her happiness, she was immensely proud of her younger sister for making something of herself.
Buffy on the other hand had not found it quite so easy to adjust to being 'normal.' Having had very little experience with the feeling she had fallen into a see-saw pattern of highs and lows, with the highs being moderate and the lows plunging off the charts. She had found some solace, however, in writing. A few sad and slightly morbid short stories had been the result of a particularly painful night of reminiscing and from there it had taken off. Journal after journal had quickly been filled with her thoughts and feelings, taking form in stories of love lost and experience gained, a pattern she was all too familiar with.
This night she had been immersed in her writing once again, stretched out on a bench in the park a few streets down from their building, and when she had halted to stretch her cramped fingers, she was startled to find the sun was below the horizon and the street lamp above her had been providing the illumination she had been writing by for the past several hours. Rising, she had tucked the journal back into her bag, slung that over her shoulder, and began her walk home at a leisurely, almost drugged pace. Then the sensation had come over her once again, the one she'd been having for so many months, that always came when she was alone and 'unprotected' from her surroundings, and from herself. She'd be walking home and feel someone watching her, following her, as he used to do so often. Or late at night, she'd return from her sojourn to the balcony only to see a shadow in the shape of a man in a dark corner, but when she blinked it would be gone. These glimpses hurt worse than the memories that she tried so hard to ignore.
Unlocking the door she climbed the spiral staircase to her bedroom and let herself inside, avoiding the particularly squeaky floor boards and refraining from using any lights. Dawn worried so much when she fell into her depressions and it would do her no good to discover that her elder sister was out until all hours pouring her heart and soul into a blank book by way of black ink. She removed her coat and scarf, hanging them on the cast-iron hooks on the back of her door along with her duffel, but she kept the journal out. Setting herself down on her bed, she tucked the black comforter in around herself and pressed play on the small cd player on the table beside her. The soft, haunting piano melody emanating from the speakers provided the perfect ambiance for her to reflect on her writings, but soon she lost focus from her script, focusing instead on the heartfelt lyrics that struck all to close to her heart.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
I used to think that anything I'd do,
Wouldn't matter at all anyway.
But now I find that when it comes to you,
I'm the winner of card I can't play.
Wait for me, Wait for me.
Darling, I need you desperately, desperately.
Here.
And I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
The rain is like an orchestra to me,
Little gifts from above meant to say;
'Girl, you falling at his feet,
Isn't lovely or stunning today.'
Lay with me, Lay with me.
I'm alive when you're here with me, here with me.
Stay.
And I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
Why do the street lamps die,
When you're passing by?
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight.
If you held me close, would you laugh it away?
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay?
And I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
The rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
The rain will bring me down.
The rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
The rain will bring me down.
The tears had begun to drip down her cheeks shortly after the lyrics had begun and now they were pouring in torrential flows from her eyes. The woman's sultry voice struck a chord within Buffy's chest and released all the memories from their hidden box in the back of her mind to wreak havoc on her heart. Despite the time elapsed, despite the release given her by her writing, she couldn't drive him completely away, could never escape the memory of knowing that she had been loved for so long and taken that love for granted. Then, when she had finally admitted it to herself, and to him, he didn't believe her, wouldn't believe her, couldn't let himself believe the words he thought she had uttered to merely placate him before his end.
The cd was on repeat and the lyrics of the song continued to stream through her head as she cried into the pillow, lamenting over the loss of the one she could never truly escape. If he had believed her, maybe then it could have, would have been different. But he hadn't. A strangled sob escaped her throat as she cried out to the empty air surrounding her.
"Why? Why didn't you believe me? Why couldn't you?"
Another sob escaped her.
"You didn't believe, you didn't believe me....WHY??"
The pain she was emanating was almost tangible in the room, and his heart burst at having to watch her go through this, at being unable to reach out from his seclusion and help her. The tears streaming from her eyes cut him deeply and he clamped a hand to his mouth to keep from whispering reassurances to her and revealing himself. He couldn't reveal himself, at least not yet. The Powers wouldn't allow it.
Spike had been returned to the living shortly after the destruction of Sunnydale had occurred. Dropped shivering and naked on the side of a highway in the northern half of the state, he had quickly made his way to the nearest home and was given shelter and care. Within that house he discovered the changes. His new being was quite similar to the one he'd retained previously, curly platinum hair, ice blue eyes, handsome features, quick wit, quicker temper. Even the soul had survived. One thing was immensely different however, and he was amazed every day that he hadn't died of fright the first time he saw himself. That's how he'd discovered the truth. He had finished washing his hands and had looked up to find his blue eyes staring back at him from the mirror above the wash basin. Startled he'd thrown a hand to his chest only to release a yelp at what he felt there. The pieces slowly fell together from there. He had a reflection, he had a heartbeat, he had a soul. That could only mean one thing, he'd returned to life as a human. His confirmation had been stepping out into the afternoon sunlight for the first time in decades and basking in the glory of the warmth on his flesh.
Soon after his discovery, the Powers had found him, and proceeded to explain his new condition and the consequences and restraints it put on him. While he retained his superhuman strength and heightened sense of smell, he was mortal, and could therefore be killed by any mortal weapon. He could deal with that. Then they told him the price of his newfound Humanity. He would be required to follow the slayer for four years. Follow her, watch her, protect her, but never speak to her, never touch her, never let himself be discovered by her, or he'd be killed instantly. However, once the four years had ended, and he had proved his self restraint and control, he would be free to do what he pleased with his new life.
And it was by this decree that he found himself sunk in the shadows of his true love's bedroom, his heart breaking again, and again at the sight of her shattered one, on this the 360th day of his fourth year of humanity, unable to do anything but watch as Dawn burst into the room and began to comfort the one that he could not. It was all he could do to restrain himself from whispering the three words he wanted to say more than anything,
"I believed you." Or rather, "I still believe you."
He watched in anguish as Dawn wrapped her arms around her older sister, rocking her gently until the tears had subsided some, and then disappeared as the Buffy settled into an exhausted sleep. As she exited the room he settled down into what he now considered 'his corner' and contented himself with watching her sleep.
It's not much, not that long at all, but I had to write it down. If anyone has any input I'd love to hear it, I'm new to ffn so I'm not sure how this whole review deal functions, but if you enjoyed reading, pop me a chat! Thanks ever so and bollocks to anyone who says the plot line is depressing, It'll pick up soon dearies, I promise!
Brea
Fantastic reading all!
Uneasy Normality
Cautious eyes scanned about her surroundings as she walked the lonely road back to her apartment. The absence of anything remotely dangerous within her line of sight was comforting, however she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following her. And despite how familiar she was with the sensation, she was uneased by it. Turning to face forward once again, she continued down the narrow European road, tightening her scarf to ward off the cold. Thought it had been nearly four years, they had been immensely difficult, to use a euphemism. The defeat of the First had been permanent, and though the hellmouth in Cleveland was still active, no more than five strange occurrences happened every year so things were relatively easy to control. Faith and Principal Wood were in charge there, and holding the fort down quite well, so there was very little need for her to even check in with them. And within a matter of days, Buffy Summers, once most important 'Chosen One,' had found herself inactive and fairly useless. She and Dawn had moved to Prague as soon as funds were secured and housing was found. The apartment was small, but quaint and quite lived in, and there was a gorgeous view of the city from every window. Dawn had insisted on that, claiming that the awe-inspiring views would prove excellent muses for her painting.
That was one of the many changes that had happened since their move. Dawn was now fluent in Czech, and attending a prestigious art academy in the city with offers to work at many of the major art museums in the Czech Republic, Germany and Austria. The college life fit her well, and she had blossomed into a vibrant young twenty-something. And while Buffy envied her happiness, she was immensely proud of her younger sister for making something of herself.
Buffy on the other hand had not found it quite so easy to adjust to being 'normal.' Having had very little experience with the feeling she had fallen into a see-saw pattern of highs and lows, with the highs being moderate and the lows plunging off the charts. She had found some solace, however, in writing. A few sad and slightly morbid short stories had been the result of a particularly painful night of reminiscing and from there it had taken off. Journal after journal had quickly been filled with her thoughts and feelings, taking form in stories of love lost and experience gained, a pattern she was all too familiar with.
This night she had been immersed in her writing once again, stretched out on a bench in the park a few streets down from their building, and when she had halted to stretch her cramped fingers, she was startled to find the sun was below the horizon and the street lamp above her had been providing the illumination she had been writing by for the past several hours. Rising, she had tucked the journal back into her bag, slung that over her shoulder, and began her walk home at a leisurely, almost drugged pace. Then the sensation had come over her once again, the one she'd been having for so many months, that always came when she was alone and 'unprotected' from her surroundings, and from herself. She'd be walking home and feel someone watching her, following her, as he used to do so often. Or late at night, she'd return from her sojourn to the balcony only to see a shadow in the shape of a man in a dark corner, but when she blinked it would be gone. These glimpses hurt worse than the memories that she tried so hard to ignore.
Unlocking the door she climbed the spiral staircase to her bedroom and let herself inside, avoiding the particularly squeaky floor boards and refraining from using any lights. Dawn worried so much when she fell into her depressions and it would do her no good to discover that her elder sister was out until all hours pouring her heart and soul into a blank book by way of black ink. She removed her coat and scarf, hanging them on the cast-iron hooks on the back of her door along with her duffel, but she kept the journal out. Setting herself down on her bed, she tucked the black comforter in around herself and pressed play on the small cd player on the table beside her. The soft, haunting piano melody emanating from the speakers provided the perfect ambiance for her to reflect on her writings, but soon she lost focus from her script, focusing instead on the heartfelt lyrics that struck all to close to her heart.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
I used to think that anything I'd do,
Wouldn't matter at all anyway.
But now I find that when it comes to you,
I'm the winner of card I can't play.
Wait for me, Wait for me.
Darling, I need you desperately, desperately.
Here.
And I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
The rain is like an orchestra to me,
Little gifts from above meant to say;
'Girl, you falling at his feet,
Isn't lovely or stunning today.'
Lay with me, Lay with me.
I'm alive when you're here with me, here with me.
Stay.
And I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
Why do the street lamps die,
When you're passing by?
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight.
If you held me close, would you laugh it away?
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay?
And I'll find a way, to see you again.
I'll find a way, to see you again.
The rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
The rain will bring me down.
The rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
Rain will bring,
The rain will bring me down.
The tears had begun to drip down her cheeks shortly after the lyrics had begun and now they were pouring in torrential flows from her eyes. The woman's sultry voice struck a chord within Buffy's chest and released all the memories from their hidden box in the back of her mind to wreak havoc on her heart. Despite the time elapsed, despite the release given her by her writing, she couldn't drive him completely away, could never escape the memory of knowing that she had been loved for so long and taken that love for granted. Then, when she had finally admitted it to herself, and to him, he didn't believe her, wouldn't believe her, couldn't let himself believe the words he thought she had uttered to merely placate him before his end.
The cd was on repeat and the lyrics of the song continued to stream through her head as she cried into the pillow, lamenting over the loss of the one she could never truly escape. If he had believed her, maybe then it could have, would have been different. But he hadn't. A strangled sob escaped her throat as she cried out to the empty air surrounding her.
"Why? Why didn't you believe me? Why couldn't you?"
Another sob escaped her.
"You didn't believe, you didn't believe me....WHY??"
The pain she was emanating was almost tangible in the room, and his heart burst at having to watch her go through this, at being unable to reach out from his seclusion and help her. The tears streaming from her eyes cut him deeply and he clamped a hand to his mouth to keep from whispering reassurances to her and revealing himself. He couldn't reveal himself, at least not yet. The Powers wouldn't allow it.
Spike had been returned to the living shortly after the destruction of Sunnydale had occurred. Dropped shivering and naked on the side of a highway in the northern half of the state, he had quickly made his way to the nearest home and was given shelter and care. Within that house he discovered the changes. His new being was quite similar to the one he'd retained previously, curly platinum hair, ice blue eyes, handsome features, quick wit, quicker temper. Even the soul had survived. One thing was immensely different however, and he was amazed every day that he hadn't died of fright the first time he saw himself. That's how he'd discovered the truth. He had finished washing his hands and had looked up to find his blue eyes staring back at him from the mirror above the wash basin. Startled he'd thrown a hand to his chest only to release a yelp at what he felt there. The pieces slowly fell together from there. He had a reflection, he had a heartbeat, he had a soul. That could only mean one thing, he'd returned to life as a human. His confirmation had been stepping out into the afternoon sunlight for the first time in decades and basking in the glory of the warmth on his flesh.
Soon after his discovery, the Powers had found him, and proceeded to explain his new condition and the consequences and restraints it put on him. While he retained his superhuman strength and heightened sense of smell, he was mortal, and could therefore be killed by any mortal weapon. He could deal with that. Then they told him the price of his newfound Humanity. He would be required to follow the slayer for four years. Follow her, watch her, protect her, but never speak to her, never touch her, never let himself be discovered by her, or he'd be killed instantly. However, once the four years had ended, and he had proved his self restraint and control, he would be free to do what he pleased with his new life.
And it was by this decree that he found himself sunk in the shadows of his true love's bedroom, his heart breaking again, and again at the sight of her shattered one, on this the 360th day of his fourth year of humanity, unable to do anything but watch as Dawn burst into the room and began to comfort the one that he could not. It was all he could do to restrain himself from whispering the three words he wanted to say more than anything,
"I believed you." Or rather, "I still believe you."
He watched in anguish as Dawn wrapped her arms around her older sister, rocking her gently until the tears had subsided some, and then disappeared as the Buffy settled into an exhausted sleep. As she exited the room he settled down into what he now considered 'his corner' and contented himself with watching her sleep.
It's not much, not that long at all, but I had to write it down. If anyone has any input I'd love to hear it, I'm new to ffn so I'm not sure how this whole review deal functions, but if you enjoyed reading, pop me a chat! Thanks ever so and bollocks to anyone who says the plot line is depressing, It'll pick up soon dearies, I promise!
Brea