Disclaimer: I don't own them I just play with them.
Spoilers: There most likely is.
Dedication: To those who have told me they like my
stories.
Feedback: PLEASE.
Fade
to Black
It's a beautiful spring day. The sun is shining brightly and
there is barely a cloud in the sky and there is just enough of a breeze to make
it comfortable. The sounds of laughter fill the air as people enjoy the day.
Couples walking at a languid pace hand in hand, seeing nothing but each other.
It's days like this that I hate the most.
Funny isn't it, that I could hate such a day as
this but I do. I would much rather be bathed in the moonlight, have the dark of
night envelope me like a lover's embrace and see the stars all twinkly in the
black sky and hear nothing but the sound of…well nothing. To me to enjoy the
sunlight and the daytime and laughter is just…wrong.
I am pulled out of my reverie as I feel a hand
caress mine and my stomach turns because that too is wrong. I am glad I am
wearing sunglasses that hide my eyes because I know he would see the disgust
written so plainly in them. I force a smile and try to find a reason to move my
hand before my stomach really does turns.
I pull my hand away to lift my wine to my lips and
I can sense his feeling of rejection and somewhat disapproval at my drinking so
early in the day. I can't help it though. I need the alcohol to make me numb,
to burn the pain, to cope. It's not his fault I feel this way. It's never their
fault. I should know by now not to get involved but I don't want to be alone.
Well no, that's not right because even when I am
with them I am still alone. I don't want to be lonely. Someone once told me
that loneliness is the scariest thing in the world and they were right.
Sometimes I wonder though if maybe it would be better to feel lonely than feel
the way I do now. Cause all I feel is sick.
Maybe I feel sick because of the company I have
with me right now, or maybe it's because of the third glass of wine I am
currently drinking at ten o'clock in the morning but I know the real reason.
Now whether or not I'll ever admit to it is another story completely.
So I sit there in a little sidewalk café,
mid-morning with the latest in a long line of men who have come along trying to
fill the ever growing void in my soul. I have a cigarette in one hand that I'm
not smoking just using to keep my hand occupied so I don't have to hold his,
and my glass of wine dangles precariously from the other. The wine however I am
drinking to dull the ache I feel somewhere near where my heart used to be.
I'm not paying attention to my companion, just
nodding in what I consider the appropriate places and I know sooner or later
he's going to get fed up and leave the way they always do, so I try harder to
at least concentrate on what he's saying to me.
Unfortunately that's when I felt it. A tingling
sensation and then a flooding of warmth. It started at the base of my neck and
burned throughout my body like a raging wildfire. I could feel my pulse begin
to race and I could feel my blood begin to thunder through my veins and the
scar on my neck was almost vibrating.
The intensity of this onslaught had me on my feet.
I knew I was gasping for air and my eyes had gone wide, my sunglasses haven
been pulled from my face. Kevin, my companion was concerned and was calling out
to me. I knew he was talking to me, calling out my name but he sounded distant,
far away. It almost felt like I was underwater. I didn't pay any attention to
Kevin or to any of the other patrons of the café who were now frantically
asking me if I was okay.
Was I okay? Ha what a joke. I was far from okay
when I was sitting quietly with my glass of wine let alone now. Now I am
anything but okay. In fact I am about as far from okay as one could possibly
get. I am trying desperately to fight these feelings that have crashed into me like
a tidal wave, trying to fight what they mean. It can't be, I must be having a
heart attack because I only feel like this when he's near.
I find myself scanning the beach beside my little café. I
keep trying to convince myself that I won't see him, that I am dying or
something. That there is some other reasonable explanation for what I am
experiencing but then I see a silhouette in the distance. A man walking with a
shirt unbuttoned and exposing a perfect expanse of tanned muscle. He is wearing
thin cotton pants and is carrying sandals in his hands and the morning sun is
giving him a golden aura. As he gets closer to me I can see dark spiky hair and
the familiar angles of his face and I know in a moment that my hazel will meet
his chocolate.
The man on the beach stops walking a moment as if
he can feel me staring at him and he looks up. He turns and then his chocolate
find and meet my hazel. For a moment we just stare and then he smirks at me.
That little half grin that always seemed to be just for me.
Oh. My. God.
Okay earlier when I said I was as far from okay as
one could possibly get…I lied. What I am going through now is worse, tenfold. My
heart is pounding so loudly it's all I can hear and it feels like it will
explode from the intensity. I feel like a deer trapped in the headlights of an
oncoming car and I barely notice that the wine glass has slipped from my
fingers, my cigarette long forgotten and I am only vaguely aware of the glass
hitting the ground because as the image of him blurs in my tears I feel my legs
give away and I feel my body give chase to the glass.
My eyes flutter open and I can see people standing
around me and I'm still not quite sure that I haven't had a heart attack. My
head hurts and when I reach up to it my hair feels wet. Maybe I'm bleeding, I'm
not sure it could just be the wine from my forgotten glass. I look up and I can
see Kevin, worry etched in his face and behind him, for the briefest moment I
think I see him; Angel, and I struggle to sit up, to reach for him.
However I have hit my head, hard, the sudden movement makes me dizzy and I can
feel hands pushing me back down as my vision swims and everything collides
together.
"Shhh Buffy, just relax a minute. You've hit your
head pretty hard."
I know that I have hit my head pretty hard
and I probably have a concussion but I would swear on my mother's grave though,
that it was Angel's voice, not Kevin's I heard. I want to ask.
"Angel," I whisper before everything fades to
black.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Should I continue with this or give
up now. Let me know.
