DISCLAIMER: I own all. Unless I don't. In which case, I steal...er, borrow.
DEDICATION: To all B/A shippers out there. Keep the faith.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am not defecting from Buffy/Angel. I just got bored and I think Amy Acker's just adorable as our beloved yet crazed physics master, Fred.
BLOOD AND TACOS
Buffy was the love of my life. In the near three centuries I have existed, I've never loved anyone more. I cried when I heard of her death - oh, how I cried - and secluded myself in a remote area of the world, not even finding peace to mourn for my beloved. After three months, I wondered if I had indeed mourned for her. I'd like to say a part of me wanted to believe she was still alive, refusing any and all evidence of her passing. But I can't.
All of me did.
Denial is one of the undisputable symptoms of grief, and I had grieved Buffy's death since the moment I saw Willow in the Hyperion Hotel's lobby, waiting for me, her expression one of utter despair. I was certain that I'd never get over or forget Buffy, but I was strangely calm with the thought of her lying six feet beneath the earth. I, subconsciously, denied that she ceased to be. I mean, this was Buffy, the Slayer, a girl who had fought countless obstacles of life threatening proportions, yet managed to overcome them all, even death. If she managed to live again once, she most certainly would again. She wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye.
She's not me.
I left her without saying goodbye. I abandoned her in her time of need, when she needed me the most. I wasn't there for her, and she wasn't going to just pick up the phone and ask me for help. Maybe it was the hurt, maybe her pride, or maybe she loved me too much to endanger me. Perhaps all three. I'll never know. She's gone, and no one on this earth can console me...because I don't need consoling. I'm calm, cool, collected...and numb. I've been frozen for a quarter of a year, rejecting the idea that I can't ever go back to her.
I look across my bedroom, sensing someone's approach. I can tell by the soft scent of honeysuckle and corn meal who it is. I sit up on my bed, standing and walking to the door. As I open it, I see Fred, her fist raised and poised to knock. The action startles her a bit, but she smiles, looking down for a moment to hide the glasses she's wearing. She realizes that the attempt is futile and looks up at me shyly, her eyelashes batting nervously. She holds up a brown paper bag, the coy smile still hanging on her lips.
"I brought us...y-you...some food."
"What's on the menu for today?"
"Soft Tacos, just meat and extra cheese. They're my favorite."
I smile softly down at her. Although it doesn't sustain me, I enjoy eating with her, but not nearly enough as she does. It gives us both a sense of normalcy in our very unnormal lives. I take a step back to allow her to enter, which she does with small, cautious steps. I offer her the one chair I have, placing it beside the bed. I take my seat on the mattress, looking up to see her rifling through the bag to get our entrees.
"How many did you get?"
"Five. Unless you count yours, then it's ten. Did you want me to count yours, or did you just want to know how many I-"
"It's fine, Fred." I smile up at her, taking her hand to calm her down enough to sit. "I just wanted to know exactly how low our Taco Bell funds are getting. We still have a good twenty bucks."
Her face froze fearfully, her eyes casting themselves downwards. "I...I got some Pepsi..."
"It's all right, really. It's just two doll-"
"A...case...of Pepsi. I-It's my favorite drink."
I stared at her for a moment before cracking a smile. "I was kidding about the Taco Bell fund, Fred. You can have Pepsi if you want it. No reason why you shouldn't."
She gradually began to smile herself, her features relaxing back into their happy yet paranoid state. She unwrapped a taco, taking a rather large bite out of it. Half of the taco was gone by the time I picked mine up. I took the wrapper off, taking a generous portion of my own, so she wouldn't feel out of place.
"Did B-Buffy like tacos...?"
The question caught me so off guard, I choked on the food even though I didn't breathe. I managed to swallow it down, raising my eyebrow at her.
"What?"
"D-Did the girl...the one who...who died...did she like tacos...?"
I stared at the floor blankly for a moment. I couldn't even remember. It had been so long since I'd tried to recall anything about her. "She...she was more of an ice cream kind of girl."
I blinked, realizing that I barely remembered what she looked like. The picture in my mind was so vague...how could I have forgotten what she looked like? I ate, breathed, and slept that girl for five years! Fred noticed a tear falling down my cheek and began backing up in the chair.
"I...I'm sorry...I didn't mean...bad me...I'll just be quiet now..."
She stood quickly, turning for the door. She had almost gotten out, when she heard my voice. It was quiet, cracking with emotion, tainted with so much pain that there was no way she didn't notice.
"She liked strawberries. So much, she had to have a shampoo that smelled like them. I loved sneaking into her window and having that aroma being the first thing I sensed. It...it comforted me, you know? Because it meant she was there. There were no demons, no curses. Just us. She was always...there."
Fred turned slowly, taking light steps back to me. I really didn't know what to say after that, so I kept silent, and so did she. Finally, I felt her arm slip assuringly around my neck. Her touch was so gentle, I couldn't help but embrace it. I broke down and wept, clutching her to me as my tears dampened her bosom. I sobbed like a man possessed, my entire body shaking, racked with more pain that I had ever known. Heartache. I cried uncontrollably, the reality of the situation finally hitting me. Buffy was gone. She wasn't coming back. I was alone.
Fred didn't say a word the entire three and a half hours I bawled like a child in her arms. She just held me against her, not too tightly, just enough to let me know she was there, and that she wasn't leaving. I didn't expect her to leave. I didn't expect anything from her but love. And she gave it to me, just by holding me there, gently rocking me back and forth in her slender arms the whole time. She placed a soft kiss on the back of my neck, lifting my chin up so my eyes would meet hers. She saw the massive amount of agony in my eyes, from a wound that would never heal. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try and heal it anyway.
She laid me back on the bed, actually tucking me in. I stayed on the bed, letting my body be enveloped by the comforter she placed around me. She walked out of the room, stopping at the doorway and looking back at me, then disappearing down the hall. I assumed she had left me alone with my feelings and thoughts, but exactly two minutes later I heard a *ding* downstairs. A few footsteps were heard, then Fred poked her head into the room, checking on me before actually walking in, a steaming blue mug in her hand. She sat in the chair next to me, handing me the mug.
"I-I thought you m-might be hungry."
I accepted the mug, taking a sip of the concoction. It was coppery, yet robust in it's own right. Had to be O positive. I tasted something different. Not bad, just unusual. I looked up at her, smacking my lips as I tried to figure out what it was.
She saw the confusion on my face. "Cinnamon."
"What?"
"I put cinnamon in your...drink. It always cheered me up when I put it in my cocoa. I know that's not cocoa, but who says that blood can't be festive?"
I smiled a bit at her remark, taking another sip of her creation. Not bad. A little spicy, but it'd get me through. For the first time in a while, my body, my very heart, felt...warm. It wasn't the freshly microwaved plasma, or the thick cotton blanket on me. No, it was something else. It was her. She seemed to understand everything about me, and did her best to make anything bad go away. I looked up at her meek figure, my fingertips catching her chin. I guided her downwards, placing a gentle, warm kiss on her cheek.
"Thank you, Fred. For everything."
"Aw, I just got you a mug...nothing to get a medal for. Though my theory on Barton's law being somewhat inefficient might."
"Trust me. You've done more than you know."
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THE END
DEDICATION: To all B/A shippers out there. Keep the faith.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am not defecting from Buffy/Angel. I just got bored and I think Amy Acker's just adorable as our beloved yet crazed physics master, Fred.
BLOOD AND TACOS
Buffy was the love of my life. In the near three centuries I have existed, I've never loved anyone more. I cried when I heard of her death - oh, how I cried - and secluded myself in a remote area of the world, not even finding peace to mourn for my beloved. After three months, I wondered if I had indeed mourned for her. I'd like to say a part of me wanted to believe she was still alive, refusing any and all evidence of her passing. But I can't.
All of me did.
Denial is one of the undisputable symptoms of grief, and I had grieved Buffy's death since the moment I saw Willow in the Hyperion Hotel's lobby, waiting for me, her expression one of utter despair. I was certain that I'd never get over or forget Buffy, but I was strangely calm with the thought of her lying six feet beneath the earth. I, subconsciously, denied that she ceased to be. I mean, this was Buffy, the Slayer, a girl who had fought countless obstacles of life threatening proportions, yet managed to overcome them all, even death. If she managed to live again once, she most certainly would again. She wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye.
She's not me.
I left her without saying goodbye. I abandoned her in her time of need, when she needed me the most. I wasn't there for her, and she wasn't going to just pick up the phone and ask me for help. Maybe it was the hurt, maybe her pride, or maybe she loved me too much to endanger me. Perhaps all three. I'll never know. She's gone, and no one on this earth can console me...because I don't need consoling. I'm calm, cool, collected...and numb. I've been frozen for a quarter of a year, rejecting the idea that I can't ever go back to her.
I look across my bedroom, sensing someone's approach. I can tell by the soft scent of honeysuckle and corn meal who it is. I sit up on my bed, standing and walking to the door. As I open it, I see Fred, her fist raised and poised to knock. The action startles her a bit, but she smiles, looking down for a moment to hide the glasses she's wearing. She realizes that the attempt is futile and looks up at me shyly, her eyelashes batting nervously. She holds up a brown paper bag, the coy smile still hanging on her lips.
"I brought us...y-you...some food."
"What's on the menu for today?"
"Soft Tacos, just meat and extra cheese. They're my favorite."
I smile softly down at her. Although it doesn't sustain me, I enjoy eating with her, but not nearly enough as she does. It gives us both a sense of normalcy in our very unnormal lives. I take a step back to allow her to enter, which she does with small, cautious steps. I offer her the one chair I have, placing it beside the bed. I take my seat on the mattress, looking up to see her rifling through the bag to get our entrees.
"How many did you get?"
"Five. Unless you count yours, then it's ten. Did you want me to count yours, or did you just want to know how many I-"
"It's fine, Fred." I smile up at her, taking her hand to calm her down enough to sit. "I just wanted to know exactly how low our Taco Bell funds are getting. We still have a good twenty bucks."
Her face froze fearfully, her eyes casting themselves downwards. "I...I got some Pepsi..."
"It's all right, really. It's just two doll-"
"A...case...of Pepsi. I-It's my favorite drink."
I stared at her for a moment before cracking a smile. "I was kidding about the Taco Bell fund, Fred. You can have Pepsi if you want it. No reason why you shouldn't."
She gradually began to smile herself, her features relaxing back into their happy yet paranoid state. She unwrapped a taco, taking a rather large bite out of it. Half of the taco was gone by the time I picked mine up. I took the wrapper off, taking a generous portion of my own, so she wouldn't feel out of place.
"Did B-Buffy like tacos...?"
The question caught me so off guard, I choked on the food even though I didn't breathe. I managed to swallow it down, raising my eyebrow at her.
"What?"
"D-Did the girl...the one who...who died...did she like tacos...?"
I stared at the floor blankly for a moment. I couldn't even remember. It had been so long since I'd tried to recall anything about her. "She...she was more of an ice cream kind of girl."
I blinked, realizing that I barely remembered what she looked like. The picture in my mind was so vague...how could I have forgotten what she looked like? I ate, breathed, and slept that girl for five years! Fred noticed a tear falling down my cheek and began backing up in the chair.
"I...I'm sorry...I didn't mean...bad me...I'll just be quiet now..."
She stood quickly, turning for the door. She had almost gotten out, when she heard my voice. It was quiet, cracking with emotion, tainted with so much pain that there was no way she didn't notice.
"She liked strawberries. So much, she had to have a shampoo that smelled like them. I loved sneaking into her window and having that aroma being the first thing I sensed. It...it comforted me, you know? Because it meant she was there. There were no demons, no curses. Just us. She was always...there."
Fred turned slowly, taking light steps back to me. I really didn't know what to say after that, so I kept silent, and so did she. Finally, I felt her arm slip assuringly around my neck. Her touch was so gentle, I couldn't help but embrace it. I broke down and wept, clutching her to me as my tears dampened her bosom. I sobbed like a man possessed, my entire body shaking, racked with more pain that I had ever known. Heartache. I cried uncontrollably, the reality of the situation finally hitting me. Buffy was gone. She wasn't coming back. I was alone.
Fred didn't say a word the entire three and a half hours I bawled like a child in her arms. She just held me against her, not too tightly, just enough to let me know she was there, and that she wasn't leaving. I didn't expect her to leave. I didn't expect anything from her but love. And she gave it to me, just by holding me there, gently rocking me back and forth in her slender arms the whole time. She placed a soft kiss on the back of my neck, lifting my chin up so my eyes would meet hers. She saw the massive amount of agony in my eyes, from a wound that would never heal. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try and heal it anyway.
She laid me back on the bed, actually tucking me in. I stayed on the bed, letting my body be enveloped by the comforter she placed around me. She walked out of the room, stopping at the doorway and looking back at me, then disappearing down the hall. I assumed she had left me alone with my feelings and thoughts, but exactly two minutes later I heard a *ding* downstairs. A few footsteps were heard, then Fred poked her head into the room, checking on me before actually walking in, a steaming blue mug in her hand. She sat in the chair next to me, handing me the mug.
"I-I thought you m-might be hungry."
I accepted the mug, taking a sip of the concoction. It was coppery, yet robust in it's own right. Had to be O positive. I tasted something different. Not bad, just unusual. I looked up at her, smacking my lips as I tried to figure out what it was.
She saw the confusion on my face. "Cinnamon."
"What?"
"I put cinnamon in your...drink. It always cheered me up when I put it in my cocoa. I know that's not cocoa, but who says that blood can't be festive?"
I smiled a bit at her remark, taking another sip of her creation. Not bad. A little spicy, but it'd get me through. For the first time in a while, my body, my very heart, felt...warm. It wasn't the freshly microwaved plasma, or the thick cotton blanket on me. No, it was something else. It was her. She seemed to understand everything about me, and did her best to make anything bad go away. I looked up at her meek figure, my fingertips catching her chin. I guided her downwards, placing a gentle, warm kiss on her cheek.
"Thank you, Fred. For everything."
"Aw, I just got you a mug...nothing to get a medal for. Though my theory on Barton's law being somewhat inefficient might."
"Trust me. You've done more than you know."
----------
THE END