WARNING: Death

Also thanks so much to Spike's real lover and Cherryll for reviewing! It means so much! Also don't worry; the lustiness is coming soon (a bit next 2 chapters and ultimate Spuffy in the chapter after that)

Also thanks for the reviews! They make me feel so special!

Bleached

It shouldn't have mattered what color his hair was, it shouldn't have this effect on me. But, seeing him with bleached hair and I melt, his cheekbones seem even more prominent and his eyes look even cerulean instead of just blue. My knees seem to shake so much they could fold at the slightest touch, I close my eyes, and desperately hope the sudden wave of nausea will pass. As I open my eyes I vaguely notice that the peroxide hair seems to move closer, it's only when I can feel his breath on my neck that I'm aware of the close proximity between us. He is looking at me with a wolfish sort of smile, sucking in his cheeks even more. With most people this would be a stupid look but now I'm struggling to keep upright as my whole body turns to jelly. My breath is coming in short spurts and his eyes feel like their burning me; meeting his eyes I wasn't prepared. My knees held my weight again, his eyes stopped burning, my breath evened out, and when I met his eyes a feeling of cool bliss masked the panic.

"So…?"

It was clear that he was asking my opinion on something but my brain still couldn't sort anything out and it all seemed so unreal. His eyebrows, still a dark brown, knit together in worry of my lack of response. "Slayer, you okay?" I start to hyperventilate again and I have to sit down on one of the salon chairs. Shivers run rampant throughout my body and his breath scalds my skin as he takes my hand, what once seemed a comforting gesture turned suggestive as my brain struggled to shut down all the images of his hands in… other places.

"Umm… It's…." I can't seem to piece together the right words and I'm stuttering and hesitating "It's new!" I try to sound enthusiastic but way too much of my attention is on his fingers tracing my palm and I don't have the sheer effort to manage anything but a tired tone. The worry is sewn onto his face and concern acts as button eyes as he lifts me up. Usually I would be embarrassed by such a display in a public place. But, I'm too distracted by watching the muscles on his arms ripple than watching all the eyes reciting surprise, discomfort and curiosity. Shifting my head I can see, nervously, that he started walking and is taking long strides towards the parking lot.

My head gets heavy and electricity floods my body when I rest my head on his shoulder, absentmindedly toying with a short patch of his hair, realizing again that it's blond. His body rocks slightly with every step and I curl even more in his arms, surprised by how safe I feel with the protection of his steps and his smiles. Murmuring small snippets of comfort he places me in the passenger seat and unwraps his arms, jogging to the driver's seat.

Its shocking, how fast the electricity leaves my body, shooting sparks that hurt as it leaves and leaves a barren field. My arms stop tingling, my legs slowly grow stronger, my hair is blocking the view of Spike but I don't have the energy to move it. Just the small act of picking me up and I feel like I have ran for miles.

The car halts and my vision blurs as he opens my door, raising me out of the car I feel like I've completed the circuit. The electricity returns to my body and the short time that I was without it I felt so lonely. Opening the door he lunges up the stairs and sets me down on my bed, whispering coziness, he leaves the room. Again, I feel a sharp stake of loneliness pierce my heart and I wonder why it is so vulnerable now.

I've always protected it so well.

"Joyce?"

Pressing my ear to the ground I hear slight whispers born of shouts echo through. His shouts get louder until, even though the floor loud shouts echoes erupt from the floor. The name bounces around the room; I can see it, in different colors. A group of peroxide letters is hopping in the floor, a herd of blood red syllables jump off the windows, cerulean names bleed through the floor.

"Joyce?"

I almost have the energy to yell at him for interrupting the peace that had taken a short stop in my mind. He was screaming now, his voice tainted with panic, his tone was fast and he sounded like every syllable was forced. It hurt to hear him like that but I remained on the floor, listening to every sound, now as I look back on it there was no reason I remained there, it was pointless but it was like I was caught in a frame, everything was moving but me and I didn't realize that I was stuck.

"Joyce?"

It stopped; his panicked song was cut off, jagged lines cutting into the air. A wail blossomed into the air; it was a horrible thing to listen to, a sorrow that couldn't be faked, a sound that happened once in your life, when the most important person in your life leaves you. Frozen in my splayed position I listened for anything that could tell me why he was producing that horrifying sound. There was a click of the phone and more frantic cries; I didn't hear him hang up, only a thump rained in my ears. Faraway I could hear a piercing sound, I could see a strain of blue light illuminate the window and it wasn't until the red entwined itself with the blue that I connected the strains of clues and hints.

"Joyce?"

The piecing sound was sirens, the colors, looking so friendly in my window, were describing a story. A tale of hurt and pain, one that usually didn't have the happy ending that everyone was looking for. Those lights lit up happy endings and fed on the flames. Almost not realizing it, I was upright, stumbling towards the door, and more falling down the stairs than anything else. Once again splayed on the floor I saw something that bleeds into the dark, and for mouths after everything was dark. William was slamming the phone on the floor, as if looking for a reason, with all the effort I had I crawled towards him. Dismissing the hint of a shoe next to him and not worrying about the strange smell that covered the room I drew closer. It wasn't until I was next to him that I realized there was somebody else in the room. Wishing with everything I had I opened my eyes again and I couldn't stop myself from trailing my eyes over the scene. The only thing that felt real was William; he had stopped smashing the phone and was looking at me with what I could only describe as an apology. An apology for what? She was fine, reaching out to touch my mom, I set my arm down on something cold. Something that was stating that she wasn't alright, she wasn't going to shake it off, she wasn't going to come back.

Something that destroyed me.

William wrapped his arms around me and whatever safety that had flooded my body only an hour ago had left me. I couldn't look away, I couldn't do anything but stare at death and memorize the texture of the white blond hair that had made me so happy today. It didn't feel right, being happy on the site of my mother's death but entwining my fingers in his hair I couldn't help but feel comforted.

I stroked my mother's hand until the ambulance came, they knew the second that they stepped in the house that she was gone. The air smelled heavy, fogged with tears and death, the ground was barren of time, and the entire house was covered in a storm of loss. I don't know how long I stayed in that position, leaning against William, watching the painted uniforms take my mother away, knowing, with an aching heart, that they are never going to return her.

I couldn't tell what day it was for weeks, the light was hidden from me, even pouring through the windows it evaded me. It couldn't warm the layers of ice building around me, only William could build a bridge between our iced hearts, keeping it from sealing up. I don't know what would have happened had William and I not bleached his hair. My mother would still be dead, but I don't know if at some time I would have joined her, the shining platinum was the only color remaining after the greens had run from the walls and the blue sky rained down in showers around me.

We didn't speak for days, and when we did it was only to each other, small snippets of conversation, little things. William's Mom seemed caught in a black hole, he tried to build a bridge but her tired heart was to fragile, it would grow to be brittle and with too much weight it would break. He kept her from falling under the greedy waves of depression but she never swam out, she's still waist deep.

It was almost a month later when my words slipped, I was playing with his soft hair, still a shocking bleached blond, and the words escaped the gates of my mind and were tugged from my lips by the only color in the gray house. It was simple, only a handful of words, and he smiled, knowing I meant them. He whispered them back in my ear and I couldn't help but smile, the expression burned, but in a good way, it was cracking the stone mask that grew like ivy. Those words meant so much, I'll help you, I won't leave you behind, I trust you. It was that day, 26 days after my mother's burial that I promised to myself that we would help each other to feel again. It was that day when three words escaped my lips, and floated from his.

I love you