Author's note: This story and its contents are the property of Rebecca
Graves, and may not be reproduced or published without the written consent
of the author. (please! if you want to post this fic somewhere, email me at
dayetriper@sbcglobal.net and ask my permission first)
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, yadda yadda yadda... I only borrow, I promise I'll give them back when I'm done! :-)
Spoilers: See story description; through Season Six. Doesn't spoil Season 7, but may spoil A:tS Season 4 in chapters 6 and after, so be warned... on to the story!!!!!!
Author's Note: HEY BUFFY FANS!!! Help our voices be heard regarding Buffy! Fill out the Buffy survey at the link in my author profile, and let the world know how your love of all things Buffy has affected your life! Do it today!
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Willow sighed as she let her clothes slip silently to the carpet. She slid on her soft bathrobe and slowly made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. It was a relief to have these quiet moments to herself; to be able to just exist and not have to put on an act for the benefit of Buffy and Dawn, and pretend as if she didn't still feel like her world was fading away from her day by day. The Slayer and her sister were no doubt out saving the world... while she barely felt like a part of it anymore. Since Tara's death, she'd become withdrawn, quiet... more like the shy girl of Sunnydale High, whose only friend she'd loved more than anything... surely, it was Xander's love for her that had saved her, and the world, from total destruction... but when she was alone, at night, she sometimes wished he'd have let her die. Death would have been easier, simpler than living in a world without Tara...
The tile floor was cool on her bare feet as she padded over to the small bathroom window. A cool breeze greeted her as she pushed open the window panes, the small lace curtains fluttering gently for a moment against her cheek. She gazed out over the backyard, the leaves of the trees rustled on their branches, dancing in the wind. Her gaze lifted to the starry night sky, and she exhaled softly. She remembered lying out under those stars, naming them... for Tara... remembered the quiet girl's amazement at the redhead's knowledge of them... remembered the serenity and peace she'd felt, lying in Tara's arms...
Abruptly, she tore her gaze away from the sky, and turned back toward the shower. Sliding the black curtain aside, she reached in and turned the tap, feeling the cool water turn warm on her bare arm. She let her other hand run gently over the silky curtain fabric. It had been a gift from Tara; after they'd moved into the house to care for Dawn, it had taken them a while to get comfortable, but about a month after they'd moved in, Tara had given the curtain to Willow as a kind of housewarming present. It was a black and smoke gray curtain, with a pattern of small dragons on it... Willow could still see the smile in Tara's eyes when they'd hung the curtain,
and stepped into the shower together behind it for the first time...
She unfastened the tie around her waist and slid off her robe, hanging it on the hook on back of the door as she stepped into the warm spray. A moment later, her hand snaked back around the edge of the curtain and hit the light switch, dousing the bright lights so that the only glow in the room came from the small candles she'd placed on the sink.
She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the water envelop her. If she imagined hard enough, it almost felt like the soft, comforting arms of her lover, holding her in a gentle embrace. Leaning into the water, she placed her forehead against the cool tile wall and began to softly sob.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Spike stumbled through the dark streets of Sunnydale, the soles of his black boots nearly worn through. How he'd managed to get back here in one piece was a small miracle; even he wasn't quite sure how he'd done it. His last clear memory was of the bastard demon in the cave in Africa, placing a flaming hand to his chest and granting his "wish" of restoring his soul. The pain of the experience was so intense that he'd lain unconscious for quite some time... When he did awake, in excruciating pain both mental and physical, and ready to give the demon bastard a thoroughly good ass- kicking, he'd found the cave deserted... in fact, the entire nearby village was a ghost town.
So he'd stumbled across the desert for nights on end, tortured by visions of the past; his new soul's housewarming gift, he supposed. He even saw Angelus and Drusilla before him, taunting him, reminding him of all the wonderfully evil things he'd done, telling him that he need only find some unsuspecting human on which to feed, and that the blood would ease the pain of it all... He was quite sure that before he made it out of the desert, he'd go mad, if he hadn't already.
Yet he travelled on by night, finding small rock outcroppings to hide in or under during the day, until finally reaching a small airport. He'd managed to barter his worn leather duster with the local pilot in exchange for an evening flight as far as he could take him, inwardly struggling not to just rip the man's throat out and end his suffering. But he knew that taking the man's life would only make it worse... Dru danced before his vision, taunting his sensibility.
The nights turned into weeks as he'd traveled slowly across the globe, fighting to get back to the one place he felt he belonged; that is, if he truly belonged anywhere now...
"Damn Slayer..." he growled to himself as he limped down Revello Drive, approaching the familiar house that he hadn't seen in... had it been two months? Seemed like an eternity of pain he'd suffered, all for that stupid bint... Why had it never occurred to him when he'd made his wish, to word it exactly as he'd meant it! All he'd wanted was to get the damn chip out of his head and be the same old William the Bloody who'd struck fear into the hearts of all Slayers before that damn blonde fluff of a Slayer had come along and turned him into her whipping boy. She needed to get what was coming to her... or so he'd thought... Apparantly the Powers That Be had other plans for him, and he was less than thrilled. The pain in his head and his... soul... was still nearly blinding, but he'd managed to hold it inside of him long enough to get here... all he needed was to get back to his crypt (that is, providing that Clem hadn't decided that he wasn't coming back and appropriated it for himself) and lock himself away until he figured out what the hell was going to happen to him... what the hell he was going to do now...
As he approached the darkened house, he stopped beneath the large tree in the yard and gazed upward. The stars were so bright tonight... Apparantly the Summers women weren't at home; the house was dark and quiet. Gazing up at the darkened windows, he felt more alone than he had since he'd left. He sighed. How on earth would he be able to convince any of them that he was changed now, different...? Hell, the damn Slayer would probably just stake him out of spite for running off and leaving her like he did. There was no way in hell that she'd ever believe that he had somehow managed to win back his soul.
Hell, inwardly he could feel that the mess of a relationship that he'd had with her had never been right, never been meant to be... but she seemed to have needed someone who understood how utterly alone you can be, even when surrounded by others. And he'd understood more than she knew. And for a time, they had eased each other's pain, found solace in each other, if only for fleeting moments when they were alone and could forget their pasts and futures and just exist. Even though they'd eventually combusted, as he supposed was meant to happen, he wouldn't trade it. Without her to light the fire beneath him, who knows where he'd be now? Probably traipsing across the globe, still searching to win back Drusilla from whoever her latest interest was; or worse, still shackled to that damn Harmony. He grimaced at the thought of the brash, irritating, shrill bubblehead. Then he smiled slightly. At least she'd looked up to him, respected his age and wisdom in a way that Angelus and Dru never did... oh well, all blood under the bridge now, he supposed.
Spike wandered slowly around the side of the house to the backyard, glancing up when he noticed the soft flicker of candlelight coming from the open bathroom window. He stopped and cocked his head to the side, listening. The soft steady sound of running water came to him, and muffled sobs. It was the witch, good old Red... what could have happened while he was gone, for her to be in so much pain? He could feel her sadness pouring down from the window to reach him on the ground below, like soft warm raindrops of power falling on him. He closed his eyes and stood motionless, the ache in his chest growing minute by minute.
Suddenly, he began to feel actual drops falling on his upturned face, and he sneaked open one eye to gaze up. He couldn't believe it, but it was actually beginning to rain, a warm summer shower... He smiled and closed his eyes again, letting the gentle drops wash off the sand and dirt that he'd accumulated on his journey, feeling some of his worries and tensions slip away as well. He knew it would be difficult, but he had a feeling he knew at least one of the old
gang who'd listen to him... someone he could convince that he had changed...
"I know you're hurting, Red..." he whispered to himself in the dark. "Believe me... I know it hurts..." He tore his gaze from the open window and stumbled away, off to deal with his own pain.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TBC - Please review and let me know what you think, suggestions are welcome! Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, yadda yadda yadda... I only borrow, I promise I'll give them back when I'm done! :-)
Spoilers: See story description; through Season Six. Doesn't spoil Season 7, but may spoil A:tS Season 4 in chapters 6 and after, so be warned... on to the story!!!!!!
Author's Note: HEY BUFFY FANS!!! Help our voices be heard regarding Buffy! Fill out the Buffy survey at the link in my author profile, and let the world know how your love of all things Buffy has affected your life! Do it today!
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Willow sighed as she let her clothes slip silently to the carpet. She slid on her soft bathrobe and slowly made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. It was a relief to have these quiet moments to herself; to be able to just exist and not have to put on an act for the benefit of Buffy and Dawn, and pretend as if she didn't still feel like her world was fading away from her day by day. The Slayer and her sister were no doubt out saving the world... while she barely felt like a part of it anymore. Since Tara's death, she'd become withdrawn, quiet... more like the shy girl of Sunnydale High, whose only friend she'd loved more than anything... surely, it was Xander's love for her that had saved her, and the world, from total destruction... but when she was alone, at night, she sometimes wished he'd have let her die. Death would have been easier, simpler than living in a world without Tara...
The tile floor was cool on her bare feet as she padded over to the small bathroom window. A cool breeze greeted her as she pushed open the window panes, the small lace curtains fluttering gently for a moment against her cheek. She gazed out over the backyard, the leaves of the trees rustled on their branches, dancing in the wind. Her gaze lifted to the starry night sky, and she exhaled softly. She remembered lying out under those stars, naming them... for Tara... remembered the quiet girl's amazement at the redhead's knowledge of them... remembered the serenity and peace she'd felt, lying in Tara's arms...
Abruptly, she tore her gaze away from the sky, and turned back toward the shower. Sliding the black curtain aside, she reached in and turned the tap, feeling the cool water turn warm on her bare arm. She let her other hand run gently over the silky curtain fabric. It had been a gift from Tara; after they'd moved into the house to care for Dawn, it had taken them a while to get comfortable, but about a month after they'd moved in, Tara had given the curtain to Willow as a kind of housewarming present. It was a black and smoke gray curtain, with a pattern of small dragons on it... Willow could still see the smile in Tara's eyes when they'd hung the curtain,
and stepped into the shower together behind it for the first time...
She unfastened the tie around her waist and slid off her robe, hanging it on the hook on back of the door as she stepped into the warm spray. A moment later, her hand snaked back around the edge of the curtain and hit the light switch, dousing the bright lights so that the only glow in the room came from the small candles she'd placed on the sink.
She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the water envelop her. If she imagined hard enough, it almost felt like the soft, comforting arms of her lover, holding her in a gentle embrace. Leaning into the water, she placed her forehead against the cool tile wall and began to softly sob.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Spike stumbled through the dark streets of Sunnydale, the soles of his black boots nearly worn through. How he'd managed to get back here in one piece was a small miracle; even he wasn't quite sure how he'd done it. His last clear memory was of the bastard demon in the cave in Africa, placing a flaming hand to his chest and granting his "wish" of restoring his soul. The pain of the experience was so intense that he'd lain unconscious for quite some time... When he did awake, in excruciating pain both mental and physical, and ready to give the demon bastard a thoroughly good ass- kicking, he'd found the cave deserted... in fact, the entire nearby village was a ghost town.
So he'd stumbled across the desert for nights on end, tortured by visions of the past; his new soul's housewarming gift, he supposed. He even saw Angelus and Drusilla before him, taunting him, reminding him of all the wonderfully evil things he'd done, telling him that he need only find some unsuspecting human on which to feed, and that the blood would ease the pain of it all... He was quite sure that before he made it out of the desert, he'd go mad, if he hadn't already.
Yet he travelled on by night, finding small rock outcroppings to hide in or under during the day, until finally reaching a small airport. He'd managed to barter his worn leather duster with the local pilot in exchange for an evening flight as far as he could take him, inwardly struggling not to just rip the man's throat out and end his suffering. But he knew that taking the man's life would only make it worse... Dru danced before his vision, taunting his sensibility.
The nights turned into weeks as he'd traveled slowly across the globe, fighting to get back to the one place he felt he belonged; that is, if he truly belonged anywhere now...
"Damn Slayer..." he growled to himself as he limped down Revello Drive, approaching the familiar house that he hadn't seen in... had it been two months? Seemed like an eternity of pain he'd suffered, all for that stupid bint... Why had it never occurred to him when he'd made his wish, to word it exactly as he'd meant it! All he'd wanted was to get the damn chip out of his head and be the same old William the Bloody who'd struck fear into the hearts of all Slayers before that damn blonde fluff of a Slayer had come along and turned him into her whipping boy. She needed to get what was coming to her... or so he'd thought... Apparantly the Powers That Be had other plans for him, and he was less than thrilled. The pain in his head and his... soul... was still nearly blinding, but he'd managed to hold it inside of him long enough to get here... all he needed was to get back to his crypt (that is, providing that Clem hadn't decided that he wasn't coming back and appropriated it for himself) and lock himself away until he figured out what the hell was going to happen to him... what the hell he was going to do now...
As he approached the darkened house, he stopped beneath the large tree in the yard and gazed upward. The stars were so bright tonight... Apparantly the Summers women weren't at home; the house was dark and quiet. Gazing up at the darkened windows, he felt more alone than he had since he'd left. He sighed. How on earth would he be able to convince any of them that he was changed now, different...? Hell, the damn Slayer would probably just stake him out of spite for running off and leaving her like he did. There was no way in hell that she'd ever believe that he had somehow managed to win back his soul.
Hell, inwardly he could feel that the mess of a relationship that he'd had with her had never been right, never been meant to be... but she seemed to have needed someone who understood how utterly alone you can be, even when surrounded by others. And he'd understood more than she knew. And for a time, they had eased each other's pain, found solace in each other, if only for fleeting moments when they were alone and could forget their pasts and futures and just exist. Even though they'd eventually combusted, as he supposed was meant to happen, he wouldn't trade it. Without her to light the fire beneath him, who knows where he'd be now? Probably traipsing across the globe, still searching to win back Drusilla from whoever her latest interest was; or worse, still shackled to that damn Harmony. He grimaced at the thought of the brash, irritating, shrill bubblehead. Then he smiled slightly. At least she'd looked up to him, respected his age and wisdom in a way that Angelus and Dru never did... oh well, all blood under the bridge now, he supposed.
Spike wandered slowly around the side of the house to the backyard, glancing up when he noticed the soft flicker of candlelight coming from the open bathroom window. He stopped and cocked his head to the side, listening. The soft steady sound of running water came to him, and muffled sobs. It was the witch, good old Red... what could have happened while he was gone, for her to be in so much pain? He could feel her sadness pouring down from the window to reach him on the ground below, like soft warm raindrops of power falling on him. He closed his eyes and stood motionless, the ache in his chest growing minute by minute.
Suddenly, he began to feel actual drops falling on his upturned face, and he sneaked open one eye to gaze up. He couldn't believe it, but it was actually beginning to rain, a warm summer shower... He smiled and closed his eyes again, letting the gentle drops wash off the sand and dirt that he'd accumulated on his journey, feeling some of his worries and tensions slip away as well. He knew it would be difficult, but he had a feeling he knew at least one of the old
gang who'd listen to him... someone he could convince that he had changed...
"I know you're hurting, Red..." he whispered to himself in the dark. "Believe me... I know it hurts..." He tore his gaze from the open window and stumbled away, off to deal with his own pain.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TBC - Please review and let me know what you think, suggestions are welcome! Thanks for reading!