Title: After This
Author: SixofHearts (Bianca Masiello)
Disclaimer: Screw this, everybody's not as bloody stupid as they claim to
be.
A/N: Buffy's a nice show, and Spike makes my blood boil (thank you God for
giving me eyes!), but I think I can have more fun than Joss. WARNING: I'm
big into the character development, not so much the fighting and the big
bads, though that always seems to happen. I'll keep it bumping, promise, no
stepping on your feet during the slow dance. This should be interesting
considering I'm writing this a handful of seasons after the fact. We know
how things turn out. messy and painful. Maybe that can change.
Opinion: What makes fanfiction so. sucky? It always seems more fun writing
it than read someone else's. I think I finally figured it out. People write
what they feel in their hearts, and see in their imaginations. and not what
they know the characters would actually do. After years of the show, all of
them have a life of their own. And if you don't comply with that. it
becomes just too damn unrealistic. I hope I can make a safe blend of the
two extremes.
Summary: Buffy never got the chance to be the hero, and Dawn took her place
up on that tower. Now Dawn is gone, and her family and friends are left to
suffer the afterthought, each on his own. Can they find a way back to each
other? On going. Updates, more than weekly.
Date started: Jan 26, 03
Last updated: Jan 27,03
- - - - - -
The face in the mirror was no longer her own. It was too old, too sad, too thin, too everything. Everything but herself. She looked away and pushed a few strands of soaked hair out of her face. She wrapped the towel around her and opened the door. The cold world came rushing into the steaming bathroom.
Tara set a cup of coffee in front of Willow. She was listening to the movement upstairs. The house was so quiet; you could hear every squeaky floorboard and door shut.
"Sweetie, Will?" Tara called softly. Willow looked up from the spot on the wall she'd been unconsciously examining. "It's time to go." She said quietly. Willow nodded and took the coffee. The girls moved out of the kitchen and to the door. Tara pulled it open and half-stepped out, she glanced back. Willow looked longingly up the stairs at words and time slipping away.
Tara placed a gentle hand on the small of her back; Willow lowered her stare from the black and walked out with her.
Buffy blinked hard as the front door closed, holding her shirt close to her. She took a breath and finished pulling her clothes on. Grabbing her favorite cinnamon and sugar spray off of her vanity and her purse off the back of her door, she hurried out of the lonely room.
- - - - - -
The whole world was off balance, like the gods got bored with the arrangements and tilted Earth's axis; because of the fun. The sky wasn't dark, just void of light mostly. The rain fell, never really touching the ground or her.
Buffy stepped inside and shook off her chicken hat. The place was just opening, not all the lights were on yet. She walked past an attendant mopping under the tables. She wandered to the back and tossed her hat onto the coat rack.
"You're working register today," A woman with a clipboard stormed by. Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but the woman was gone. She turned disappointed to the front.
"I'll swap, if you'd like?" The boy with the mop suggested quietly. Buffy looked up from behind the counter. She smiled inwardly and nodded. Buffy wandered around the counter and the boy handed her the mop. "Manager wants the tables done, the trash out today, and a new shipment of veggies and wrapping paper are due in today. So I guess you could stock the storage room." He said warmly. She nodded mindlessly.
She pushed the mop along the floor, catching the last little pieces of straw paper tops and breadcrumbs. The Double Meat Palace. Not in a million years had she guessed she'd be working here. Money got so tight, after her mom's death. They were able to go on for a few months with only a hiccup, then that one night. changed everything.
Buffy pushed the mop a little faster, losing herself in the job. It wasn't anything special, but it kept her busy and brought money home. Home. She hated going back there. It was so. broken. Everything was broken except one thing.
I'm not broken. I'll be just fine.
Somehow.
- - - - - -
She pushed through the doors backward into the alley. She turned her head in disgust from the bags and hurried over to the Dumpster. The rain fell undaunted by time, same as when she had arrived earlier that day. Buffy set the bags down and tried to lift the dumpster's top.
"Should have taken counter," she said as the lid swung up and slammed against the brick wall behind it. She reached down and took the bags, slinging them into the dumpster. One of the bags got caught on an edge and split open. "Shit," Buffy looked down at all the meal bags, empty drinks, and used ketchup packets. She fell to her knees and started to gather the pieces.
"All work and no play makes Cinderella a very dull girl." A loud crack of thunder boomed near by and shook the ground she knelt on. She gasped and looked up. Buffy first saw his boots, then that duster he's so goddamn proud of. He held a bottle of Jack Daniel in his hand and an old umbrella in the other.
"Jesus Spike," Buffy continued gathering the trash, never looking at his face. She didn't need to.
"S'ry Slayer, couldn't help m'self." He laughed a little setting the umbrella down. Buffy sighed, he's drunk. She started to her feet with the armful of garbage. She lost traction half way and slipped on the wet street. She thought for sure she'd hit the ground hard and then just lay there. She wouldn't be embarrassed, she'd just wait, and pray the hellmouth would open up and swallow her.
But before she even had a chance to fall, she heard a bottle drop and two strong hands catch her. She let out a breath of anticipation and let him lift her to her feet. She looked down as she tossed the trash into the dumpster.
"Goodbye," she spoke quickly and turned towards the back door.
"That's it?" he called after her. Buffy turned back to him, she felt like yelling back, what do you want from me? But found herself looking at Spike for the first time in months. He looked horrible, and her bitter resolve melted. Spike bent over and picked up his alcohol. He gave up weakly and turned away from the alley.
"Wait," she wasn't sure why she'd said it, but there was no taking the word back. He stopped, he's waiting. Buffy turned and hurried inside. She swooped up her coat and purse. She walked to the clock as she pulled out her body spray. She looked up and took her card, clocking out. Buffy turned and sneaked through the back to the alley door. She stopped before going outside and sprayed her clothes and hair before tucking the bottle into her purse. She hated the way this place smells.
She stepped out into the rain again. He was still there, she watched as he tossed back last swig of his drink. He looked down and held the bottle tight. Without warning, Spike turned and hurled the bottle at the wall, it shattered into a thousand and one pieces.
Buffy walked slowly up to him, "Did that help?" she asked. He glanced over his shoulder.
"For a second." He replied. Buffy stepped up beside him; she could see the hurt in his face. Had he been this way the whole time? It had been so long since they had seen each other; not since.
Buffy reached up and slid her arm into his gently. She watched as a dull fire flickered behind his dark cobalt eyes.
They walked, not fast or directionally. Just walked. She wondered what he was thinking, because he wasn't speaking. Neither was she. Why was it so hard to talk? Then she remembered.
Buffy looked up to see Spike's crypt. It looked, more familiar than she remembered. She wasn't sure what that meant, or how to explain the déjà vu. He walked her to his door and stopped. She slipped out of his arm and looked up at him.
"You probably want to patrol," he started. She smiled a little at the irony; the first thing he said to her the whole way was goodbye.
"It's only three," she replied. "But you're right, the sun's down already." She remembered after seeing the rain on his face. He had something he wanted to say, but she could feel the words were just stuck in his throat. Buffy half nodded and turned from him slowly.
"You're always welcome, here." He said, a little more loudly than he'd intended, his voice trailing off at the end. Buffy turned back to him, still walking away.
"Goodnight," she turned and disappeared into the woods. Spike knitted his eyebrows and pulled open the door to his crypt.
- - - - - -
- - - - - -
The face in the mirror was no longer her own. It was too old, too sad, too thin, too everything. Everything but herself. She looked away and pushed a few strands of soaked hair out of her face. She wrapped the towel around her and opened the door. The cold world came rushing into the steaming bathroom.
Tara set a cup of coffee in front of Willow. She was listening to the movement upstairs. The house was so quiet; you could hear every squeaky floorboard and door shut.
"Sweetie, Will?" Tara called softly. Willow looked up from the spot on the wall she'd been unconsciously examining. "It's time to go." She said quietly. Willow nodded and took the coffee. The girls moved out of the kitchen and to the door. Tara pulled it open and half-stepped out, she glanced back. Willow looked longingly up the stairs at words and time slipping away.
Tara placed a gentle hand on the small of her back; Willow lowered her stare from the black and walked out with her.
Buffy blinked hard as the front door closed, holding her shirt close to her. She took a breath and finished pulling her clothes on. Grabbing her favorite cinnamon and sugar spray off of her vanity and her purse off the back of her door, she hurried out of the lonely room.
- - - - - -
The whole world was off balance, like the gods got bored with the arrangements and tilted Earth's axis; because of the fun. The sky wasn't dark, just void of light mostly. The rain fell, never really touching the ground or her.
Buffy stepped inside and shook off her chicken hat. The place was just opening, not all the lights were on yet. She walked past an attendant mopping under the tables. She wandered to the back and tossed her hat onto the coat rack.
"You're working register today," A woman with a clipboard stormed by. Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but the woman was gone. She turned disappointed to the front.
"I'll swap, if you'd like?" The boy with the mop suggested quietly. Buffy looked up from behind the counter. She smiled inwardly and nodded. Buffy wandered around the counter and the boy handed her the mop. "Manager wants the tables done, the trash out today, and a new shipment of veggies and wrapping paper are due in today. So I guess you could stock the storage room." He said warmly. She nodded mindlessly.
She pushed the mop along the floor, catching the last little pieces of straw paper tops and breadcrumbs. The Double Meat Palace. Not in a million years had she guessed she'd be working here. Money got so tight, after her mom's death. They were able to go on for a few months with only a hiccup, then that one night. changed everything.
Buffy pushed the mop a little faster, losing herself in the job. It wasn't anything special, but it kept her busy and brought money home. Home. She hated going back there. It was so. broken. Everything was broken except one thing.
I'm not broken. I'll be just fine.
Somehow.
- - - - - -
She pushed through the doors backward into the alley. She turned her head in disgust from the bags and hurried over to the Dumpster. The rain fell undaunted by time, same as when she had arrived earlier that day. Buffy set the bags down and tried to lift the dumpster's top.
"Should have taken counter," she said as the lid swung up and slammed against the brick wall behind it. She reached down and took the bags, slinging them into the dumpster. One of the bags got caught on an edge and split open. "Shit," Buffy looked down at all the meal bags, empty drinks, and used ketchup packets. She fell to her knees and started to gather the pieces.
"All work and no play makes Cinderella a very dull girl." A loud crack of thunder boomed near by and shook the ground she knelt on. She gasped and looked up. Buffy first saw his boots, then that duster he's so goddamn proud of. He held a bottle of Jack Daniel in his hand and an old umbrella in the other.
"Jesus Spike," Buffy continued gathering the trash, never looking at his face. She didn't need to.
"S'ry Slayer, couldn't help m'self." He laughed a little setting the umbrella down. Buffy sighed, he's drunk. She started to her feet with the armful of garbage. She lost traction half way and slipped on the wet street. She thought for sure she'd hit the ground hard and then just lay there. She wouldn't be embarrassed, she'd just wait, and pray the hellmouth would open up and swallow her.
But before she even had a chance to fall, she heard a bottle drop and two strong hands catch her. She let out a breath of anticipation and let him lift her to her feet. She looked down as she tossed the trash into the dumpster.
"Goodbye," she spoke quickly and turned towards the back door.
"That's it?" he called after her. Buffy turned back to him, she felt like yelling back, what do you want from me? But found herself looking at Spike for the first time in months. He looked horrible, and her bitter resolve melted. Spike bent over and picked up his alcohol. He gave up weakly and turned away from the alley.
"Wait," she wasn't sure why she'd said it, but there was no taking the word back. He stopped, he's waiting. Buffy turned and hurried inside. She swooped up her coat and purse. She walked to the clock as she pulled out her body spray. She looked up and took her card, clocking out. Buffy turned and sneaked through the back to the alley door. She stopped before going outside and sprayed her clothes and hair before tucking the bottle into her purse. She hated the way this place smells.
She stepped out into the rain again. He was still there, she watched as he tossed back last swig of his drink. He looked down and held the bottle tight. Without warning, Spike turned and hurled the bottle at the wall, it shattered into a thousand and one pieces.
Buffy walked slowly up to him, "Did that help?" she asked. He glanced over his shoulder.
"For a second." He replied. Buffy stepped up beside him; she could see the hurt in his face. Had he been this way the whole time? It had been so long since they had seen each other; not since.
Buffy reached up and slid her arm into his gently. She watched as a dull fire flickered behind his dark cobalt eyes.
They walked, not fast or directionally. Just walked. She wondered what he was thinking, because he wasn't speaking. Neither was she. Why was it so hard to talk? Then she remembered.
Buffy looked up to see Spike's crypt. It looked, more familiar than she remembered. She wasn't sure what that meant, or how to explain the déjà vu. He walked her to his door and stopped. She slipped out of his arm and looked up at him.
"You probably want to patrol," he started. She smiled a little at the irony; the first thing he said to her the whole way was goodbye.
"It's only three," she replied. "But you're right, the sun's down already." She remembered after seeing the rain on his face. He had something he wanted to say, but she could feel the words were just stuck in his throat. Buffy half nodded and turned from him slowly.
"You're always welcome, here." He said, a little more loudly than he'd intended, his voice trailing off at the end. Buffy turned back to him, still walking away.
"Goodnight," she turned and disappeared into the woods. Spike knitted his eyebrows and pulled open the door to his crypt.
- - - - - -